


Operation: Nifty First Dates

by girlygirl14534



Series: The Adventures of Amy [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ...at least not yet, Bucky Barnes x Black!Original Female Character, Dancing, Eiffel Tower, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Italy, Kissing in the Rain, Love Triangles, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Paris (City), Romantic Fluff, Roses, Slow Dancing, Steve Rogers x Black!Original Female Character, Steve Rogers x Black!Reader - Freeform, Wine, bucky barnes x black!reader, candlelit dinner, not the...you know, romantic dinner, the landmark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlygirl14534/pseuds/girlygirl14534
Summary: The competition for your heart is on and Bucky and Steve are determined to out-do each other. Who will plan the perfect date and win your affection?
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Loki, James "Bucky" Barnes & Rocket Raccoon, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Thor, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Loki & Rocket Raccoon, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: The Adventures of Amy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903927
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80





	1. All's Fair

“Liv!” you said when you opened the door, hoping that she was home. 

“I’m here!” she said, coming into the living room from her bedroom. “Time to get ready for your date?”

“No. Well, yes, but there’s something else I have to tell you!”

“What?!”

“I have a date tomorrow, too—”

“With Steve?”

“No—”

“What?! Did Brandon finally—”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I don’t know how many times I have to keep telling you—”

“Then who’s your next date with?”

“Bucky.”

“Wait…Do you mean…?”

“Steve’s best friend?” you suggested. She nodded. 

“Yeah, I ran into him on the train today…”

You told Liv the whole story of how you had met Bucky as you started to sort through outfit options for your date. 

_Meanwhile, at the Avengers Compound…_

Bucky and Steve raced to Sam’s room, shoving each other out of the way, screaming his name the whole time. Sam raced out of his room at the sound of the commotion, wielding a dagger. He was shirtless and barefoot; wearing nothing but black sweatpants.

“SAM I NEED YOUR HELP!” both men yelled at once, elbowing each other like children.

Sam immediately knew it wasn’t an emergency. “What the hell, guys?”

“Subway sweetheart and bookstore babe are the same girl!” Bucky yelled.

Sam’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “No way!” he said.

“Subway sweetheart?” Steve asked.

“I met Amy when I got separated from Morgan on the subway. That kid is slipperier than some assassins I’ve tracked.” 

“You’re sure it’s the same girl?” Sam asked.

“Wait, how do you know about ‘subway sweetheart’?” Steve asked Sam.

“He texted me. Who do you think came up with the nickname?” Sam answered with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you text _me_?” Steve asked, rounding on Bucky.

“Because you take too long to text back and I only had a few minutes while Amy took Morgan to the bathroom.”

“What? I do not take too long to text back! I would’ve replied immediately!”

“Yeah, but you would’ve tried to call me and talk everything out. Five minutes with Sam and I had a snappy nickname and a game plan. Which would’ve gone perfectly if _you_ hadn’t been her date for tonight.”

“So she’s still going out with Steve tonight?”

“And me tomorrow,” Bucky said.

“So what? You two are gonna fight over her? No way this girl is worth it.”

They took offense to Sam’s comment. “Yes, she is,” they responded in unison.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Sam chuckled. He turned to go back into his apartment, leaving the door open so his best friends could follow. Bucky took his usual spot in the cozy blue armchair and Steve sat on the couch next to Sam. Sam shot Bucky a dirty look for having his boots up on the coffee table _again_ and Bucky, as always, chose to ignore it. 

“I’m gonna let it slide this time,” Sam said. “But only because Cap’s about to steal your girl.” Sam exchanged grins with Steve. 

“I have never lost a girl to Steven Grant Rogers and I am not about to start now. I can’t believe I even have to say that. No offense, Steve.”

“None taken. Everyone loves an underdog, right?”

Bucky shook his head at Steve before turning his attention back to Sam.

“So Sam, you’ve gotta help me plan tomorrow’s date. It has to be 10x better than whatever boring date America’s Jackass has planned.”

“Sam, since I’ve known you longer, I was hoping you would help your old friend plan a date so spectacular that Amy cancels her pity date with James here,” Steve responded. 

“Woah, woah. I’m not helping either of you,” Sam said. “There is no way in hell I’m getting involved in this. I followed you two into one civil war and I think that’s my limit. I abstain from any more Avengers infighting, even the romantic kind... _Especially_ the romantic kind.”

“But—” Steve said.

Sam pointed at the door. “Now get out of my apartment.” He said it sternly, but he wore a good-natured smile.

Steve and Bucky gave up and went to leave, Sam taunting them from his position on the couch and doing his best Effie Trinket impression: “And may the odds be ever in your favor!” 

Now it was time for Plan B. For Steve that meant going to get advice from Tony. For Bucky that meant figuring out who of the Avengers would give him advice before Steve.

As Steve and Bucky got into the elevator, each realized that they didn’t want the other to know where they were going. Steve cautiously pushed the button, sending them to the floor they shared. Each of their minds was racing as they formulated their plans: they were in mission mode now. They would need to gather a team, plan their dates, and also gather as much intel as possible on the other date. During the time between leaving Sam’s and getting to their own apartments, approximately 47 seconds, they were able to have the following exchange:

“I can’t believe you texted _Sam_ instead of me,” Steve said. 

“As a wise woman once said, you can’t be good at everything, Steve, and unfortunately the serum did not enhance your texting abilities.”

“Well the serum didn’t enhance _your_ best friend abilities,” Steve pouted.

“Come on, Stevie, don’t be like that. All’s fair in love and war. And we already did the war thing.” He bumped his shoulder into Steve’s and Steve fought a smile.

His face, however, went back to business as they reached their floor and headed in opposite directions. 

_This is a shame,_ Steve thought. Because as much fun as this little competition was, Steve really wanted the person to help him plan his first date ever to be Bucky. Somehow, after everything they had gone through, his best friend was safe, sound, and living right across the hall. A situation that should have been perfect for moments like this; when Steve was so nervous about a girl who was pretty and funny and smelled nice. He could use the trademark Barnes pep talk right about now. All he needed was Bucky’s cocky grin telling him, “How could she not fall in love with you?” and he’d be set. 

Instead he was stuck peering out of his peephole, trying to find the best way to sneak out to see Tony and get his advice for the date. The only other person he would trust with this was Nat, but she was off on a mission. So Tony it was. Steve steeled himself for the taunting he was about to endure from Tony, sent a smoke bomb into the hallway to obscure his movements from Bucky, and headed up the stairs. 


	2. Team Cap Assemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s gone to Tony for help with his date. Of course Tony insists on planning a way more extravagant date than Steve is comfortable with.

Steve took the stairs to the penthouse, where of course Tony was working on some new gadget, Pepper was finishing a phone call, and Morgan was sitting at Tony’s desk, coloring with Mantis. He had actually gotten used to all the intergalactic beings that frequented the Tower now. What he was still getting used to was the sight of Tony with a cane. It was supposedly temporary, and according to Pepper his physical therapy was going great. It’s a miracle that he survived wielding the gauntlet at all.

“Hey Capsicle, care to tell me why you set off a smoke bomb in the hallway?” 

“I—” _How does he already know about that?_ Steve wondered. 

Stark gestured to his phone. ”FRIDAY alerted me. You know, since we have a state of the art security system and smoke bombs are usually a sign of a threat.”

“Sorry about that, Tony. I just didn’t want Bucky to see where I was going,”

“I know that I’m not on the best of terms with Manchurian Candidate, but hopefully you don’t have to hide our meetings from him. Especially considering that he owes the Potts-Stark family an apology. Morgan’s limited edition Frozen II pajama shirt now has irreversible mustard stains! Irreversible!”

“I thought you’d be more upset about him leaving her on the train.”

Pepper interjected, “He left her on the train?!”

Steve wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t take the chance that Tony, like Sam, would opt out of helping him plan the date. This piece of information would hopefully give Tony a good reason to help Steve out. And, hopefully, wouldn’t shatter the fragile friendship that was forming between Tony and Bucky. 

“Total accident. Could’ve happened to anybody. Bucky left Morgan on the train today. Ask her.”

Tony’s eyes went wide. “Morgan?” he called his daughter. 

“Yeah, dad?”

“Did Uncle Bucky leave you on the train today?”

“Silly Uncle Buck got off on the wrong stop! Amy and I had to wait for him so we could go get cheeseburgers. Now he owes her 999,999 cheeseburgers. That’s a lot of cheeseburgers.” She giggled and went back to coloring.

“I’m going to kill him,” Pepper said at the same time Tony asked, “Who the hell is Amy?”

“Bookstore Babe!”

“Wait, what?” Tony said. Now he was confused. He and Pepper knew about Bookstore Babe because of Sam and Bucky’s relentless teasing at dinner. Everyone in the compound had something to say about Steve’s new crush, adding to the pressure he felt to deliver tonight. And now on top of everything he had to go up against Bucky? Bucky always got the girl. Steve had never even been in the running. 

“Today, Bucky met a girl on the train because she helped him reunite with Morgan. He bought her a cheeseburger to say thank you, ended up really liking her, and she ended up being the same girl that I met yesterday. Now we’re in this competition to see who can take her on the better date. My date is tonight and his is tomorrow night.”

“She wants you guys fighting over her like this?” Pepper asked.

“Who wouldn’t? She’s like the Bachelorette: Avengers Edition,” Tony said. “Y’know Thor’s single, maybe we should ask him if he wants the Sunday slot.” 

“That’s enough, Tony,” Steve said in a tight voice. 

“Ooh, someone’s touchy. You must really like this girl.”

Steve ignored him, turning to Pepper: “To answer your question, she says she likes us both but I don’t think she likes us fighting over her, no.”

“So what does she like?” Pepper asked.

Before Steve could open his mouth, Tony was already answering for him. “What all girls like: diamonds, champagne, nice dinner, fancy dress...I’ve got it. Paris! Take the jet. You can get to Paris in two hours. What time is it now? 3? ” Steve could almost see the gears turning in Tony’s head. “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” FRIDAY responded.

“Can you reserve the Jules Verne? They’ll need to stay open late.” He turned to Steve. “What time did you tell her for dinner?”

“7.”

“Okay so if you leave here at 5, you’ll be eating dinner at 7pm our time. It’ll be 1am there, but that won’t matter since you’ll be coming right back to New York after dinner. Unless, of course, it goes _really_ well, in which case we can make you a just-in-case reservation at Le Meurice—”

“No, Tony. Le Meurice is too stuffy! Steve you wanna take her to Shangri-La. It’s more romantic,” Pepper said.

Steve blushed.“Well, I don’t want to presume—” 

“So FRIDAY, make a 7pm Eastern private reservation at the Jules Verne and make reservations for two tonight at Shangri-La. Also make sure the jet is prepared to leave at 5pm for Captain Rogers. All of this is highest level clearance. The flight plan and mission details are accessible only by me and Captain Rogers, got it?”

“Affirmative,” FRIDAY responded.

“Wait. I have to be ready in two hours?!” Steve was panicking now. He got out his phone but he didn’t even know how to tell you that you would need to be ready two hours early. “And I have to tell her that I’ll be early?” Steve was overwhelmed. “I thought I would just take her to a nice restaurant in the city, maybe go for a walk…”

“And you’re doing that. Just happens to be in a different city,” Tony shrugged.“You’re welcome, Cap. You know, for America’s Sweetheart you really are lacking in manners.” Tony went back to his inventions, leaving Steve to figure out what the hell he was going to say to you.

Pepper came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll call ahead and confirm the dinner menu and pre-select the wine list. I will also have some clothes sent over to the hotel just in case you two stay there. FRIDAY can analyze her social media, online purchases, and the security footage from today in order to determine her size and approximate her style.” 

“Can you make sure that there are two separate rooms? I just don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

“Of course! Good catch! Knowing Tony… well, let’s just be glad we thought of this,” Pepper said. “And you’ll need to tell her right now that you’re getting her early, but don’t tell her why. Let it be a surprise.”

“Do you think she’ll be upset?”

“Not once she sees what you have planned.”

“Thanks, Pepper. Seriously. I don’t know what I would have done without you guys. Normally it would be Bucky helping me with this stuff.”

“Any time, Steve.”

Steve composed a message to you, telling you that he had a surprise and would need to pick you up at 5pm instead of 7. He apologized for the late notice, but you responded graciously, to his relief. He went back to his apartment, blissfully unaware of the panic his message had inspired in an apartment across the city. 

Back in the penthouse, Pepper was figuring out the plans for Steve when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Mantis was about 3 inches from her face. She jumped back, still unaccustomed to the strange ways of the Guardians of the Galaxy.

“Hi Mantis,” she said politely. 

“Don’t forget the music. I love music,” Mantis said before drifting back over to Morgan and humming to herself.

Pepper had forgotten that Mantis was there, and didn’t even realize she had been listening to their conversation, but she had a good point. This would be a nice touch for Steve—a piano quintet in the restaurant. She set about putting the finishing touches on Steve’s date, hoping that everything would go well for him. 


	3. Team Buck...Roll Call?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky asks some unlikely people for help, which was probably a huge mistake.

Meanwhile, Bucky had decided to wander the social floors of the tower, hoping to run into something to inspire him or someone to give him advice. He found Rocket at the bar sharing Asgardian mead with Loki

“And then I say to him, 'why is _your_ leg in _my_ soup?'” Rocket was saying, both him and Loki laughing heartily before they noticed Bucky. 

“Um…hi…” Bucky began, unsure if advice from these two would help or hurt his romantic prospects with you.

“Finally ready to accept my offer on that arm?” Rocket called to him. 

“This was probably a mistake,” he murmured to himself.

Loki could sense Bucky’s distress and became intrigued.

“What is plaguing you?” Loki asked, gesturing for Bucky to have a seat and pouring him a glass of mead. Bucky took a long drink. He was reluctant to open up, but he was running out of options— and time. 

“Steve and I like the same girl and now we’re in competition over who can plan the best date—”

“And win her heart? Touching story,” Loki said in his mocking way.

“Yep, definitely a bad idea.” Bucky got up to leave but Loki placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“And you came to us for help?” Loki asked.

“Well, I can’t go to Steve and Sam refused to help either one of us, so…” Bucky looked so miserable that even Rocket wanted to help.

“I’ll go see what I can find out,” Rocket said. “I’ll be right back,”

“Where is he…?” Bucky asked, wondering what Rocket could do with so little information.

“I don’t know, but let’s focus on the problem: how to sabotage Steve’s date. I was thinking—”

“That’s not necessary, Loki. Steve is probably going to take her on a boring, old-school date. He’ll pick her up right on time, have some flowers, take her to dinner, walk her right up to her doorstep and hope for a kiss goodnight. I just need to top that.” _How, is the question. The date he'd just described is exactly what he would do._

“And what’s your plan?”

“Don’t have one. That’s why I’m asking for help from a trickster god and a raccoon,” Bucky sighed. “Maybe we could do something more active, like…”

“Sex?” Loki suggested.

“Alright. I’m gonna go—” 

“No, wait! What does she like? What _is_ she like?”

“She likes books. And cheeseburgers. She’s good with kids. She’s really funny and super gorgeous.” Bucky was practically melting talking about you.

“Not quite enough information to plan a date she would love. We need to check her social media.”

“That feels like an invasion of privacy.”

“Welcome to the 21st century on Earth! What’s her name?”

“Now I’m scared to tell you.”

“Name,” Loki commanded.

Bucky sighed. “Fine. Amy Rebecca Carlisle.” 

Loki typed into his phone. “Ah, here she is! She _is_ gorgeous. Hmm, let’s see. Looks like she’s spent some time at university studying abroad in Europe. Maybe you can take her to—” 

“Paris,” Rocket said as he walked back in and climbed on his bar stool. “The blond bastard is taking your girl to Paris in approximately 1.3 hours.”

“No way!” Bucky said.

“Yes way. Mantis overheard the whole thing. Cap went to Tony. Tony told him Paris. Fancy dinner on the Eiffel tower, complete with a piano quintet— the music was actually Mantis’s idea, sorry about that— and even fancier hotel room. Yeah, you’re gonna lose.”

“Not necessarily,” Loki said, mischief in his eyes. “If they should they find the Eiffel Tower ‘out of order’ when they arrive…”

“Brilliant!” Rocket said. “I’ve got just the thing. A small explosion; nothing major. That should knock him off his game,” Rocket suggested. 

“No,” Bucky said firmly.“I’m pretty sure that counts as terrorism and I am still rebuilding trust with most world governments right now. Not happening.” 

“Okay. No explosions. I hear you. What if we just kidnap Steve and you steal the date instead? It looks like he stood her up and then _bam!_ Bucky to the rescue!” Rocket suggested.

Bucky shook his head. “We are not kidnapping Steve. You know what? Just forget about it. I will figure it out on my own. Please don’t do anything stupid on my behalf.” Bucky got up and finally left, deciding to swallow his pride and try groveling to Sam one last time. He ignored Loki and Rocket calling after him.

He knocked on Sam’s door halfheartedly. 

Sam opened the door, noticing Bucky’s bad mood. Bucky pushed past him and flopped into the armchair. “You have to help me, Sam.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t _have_ to do anything.”

“But you _should_.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Tony helped Steve plan a trip to fucking Paris! They’re going to sip champagne on the goddamn Eiffel tower and then go to some fancy hotel and fondue the night away. There’s no hope for me.”

Sam laughed at Bucky’s dramatics. “No way Steve would take a girl on an over-the-top date like that. It’s not his style,”

“It is Tony’s, though.” 

“Shit, you’re right. Let me check something,” Sam opened his phone and started typing. Bucky waited impatiently before Sam turned to him. “Yep, Paris is the plan. Rhodey just confirmed it. How are you going to top that?”

“I don’t know! According to Loki she studied abroad in Europe. He saw it on social media. Maybe we can get some ideas there?” 

And so they went through your Instagram and learned a lot— you seemed close with your family, you had a little sister, and you had studied abroad in Florence during undergrad. 

“Italy. Perfect. All my years of watching the Bachelor have been training me for this moment: planning the perfect over-the-top date. I see you wine tasting in a Tuscan villa while an opera singer belts their heart out,” Sam said. 

“You should have a choir of tiny angels singing as if you were in a Renaissance painting. Like in that film you showed us, Sam!” Bucky and Sam turned to the door where Thor had come in without knocking. In response to their looks he shrugged, “Loki told me you needed help impressing a girl.”

Bucky scoffed, “I do not need help—”

“Wait, Thor, what movie are you talking about?” Sam asked. 

“The one with the woman and the frying pan!” 

“Are you talking about Madea’s Family Reunion?” Sam asked.

“That’s the one!” Thor smiled. 

“Thanks, Thor, but we’ve got it under control,” Bucky said. _Great_ , Bucky thought. _I bet the whole team knows now_. 

“Really?” Thor was skeptical. “What are you going to say to her? You need to make a romantic declaration. A statement of your love to show her why she should choose you.” 

“No, I don’t.”

“Actually,” Sam said. “You might want to at least think about what you’re going to say to her.”

“Yes, tell us all about her. We will help you.” Thor settled onto the couch and, much to Sam’s chagrin, put his feet up on the coffee table. 

And so Bucky told them about meeting you. They agreed you sounded great and helped him figure out the details of his date. He eventually went back to his apartment, but not before stopping by Steve’s. 

He could tell Steve was in a rush when he opened the door; shirt half-buttoned, tie loose around his neck, only one dress shoe on. Bucky had to admit Steve looked cute when he was flustered like that. 

“Now’s not a great time, pal,” Steve huffed as he hopped on one foot, trying to secure his second shoe. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to say good luck tonight. And don’t be nervous. She likes you... And she can smell fear.”

“What?!”

“I’m just kidding.” 

Bucky helped Steve fix his shirt and adjust his tie. He stopped to comb through Steve’s hair, tucking back any wayward strands. He produced a bottle of cologne seemingly out of nowhere and spritzed in the air prompting Steve to walk through the mist. Steve did so obediently and noted how nice it smelled.

“There, now you smell like a man and not a teenager who uses 500-in-1 body wash,” Bucky said. 

“Hey!” 

They both laughed before Bucky continued, “You look great, Steve.” 

Steve smiled at him, his biggest smile, and Bucky’s heart melted. 

“See! Who wouldn’t fall in love with that smile?” Bucky grinned before heading back to his own place.

“Someone who’s already fallen for yours,” Steve countered as he watched Bucky walk away. 

“Good luck, punk. You’re gonna need it!” Bucky called over his shoulder. Steve could hear the grin in his voice.

“We’ll see about that, jerk!” 

And so Steve felt a little lighter as he finished getting ready. He had a nice car all ready to pick you up in, he had flowers, and he had a Bucky-approved look. He drove towards your apartment, humming absently and tapping nervously along the steering wheel, thinking of topics of conversation for the night. 

However his thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a black SUV tailing him. _No, no, no. Not now,_ he thought. A second SUV appeared to his right, then a third, then a fourth, until he was boxed in by the cars and forced onto a side street and into an abandoned parking lot. He sighed heavily, had FRIDAY send texts to you and to Happy, shrugged off his suit jacket, and got ready for a fight. 


	4. A Night in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Steve’s date! Paris! Eiffel Tower! Roses! Romance!

You had just thrown on black pumps and gold earrings to go with your dress when you got a text from Steve. Apparently something had come up, and someone named Happy would be coming to pick you up for your date. You hoped that everything was alright, and of course prayed that there wasn't some huge alien invasion crisis in the city. 

Selfishly, you hoped he wouldn't have to cancel your date. Even though your prep time had been cut in half, you had managed to look darn good, if you did say so yourself. You had on a simple black dress that clung to every curve; low-cut but not too much cleavage. Your hair was in a casual updo, a few curls left loose to frame your face. This look was sophisticated, sexy. It was the look of a girl who didn’t get caught unglamorously in the rain or spit out her too-hot beverage in front of a cute guy. 

Once the clock struck midnight, you were liable to turn right back into a short, shivering pumpkin. And so you waited anxiously by the phone, standing up so as not to crease your dress, and hoping against hope that you would still get to attend the ball. 

A strange number texted you that Happy was waiting for you outside, and you told Liv that should you go missing the first suspects would be the 7 Dwarves. When you got downstairs you realized that Happy was the man you had seen with Morgan earlier, which put you more at ease. He greeted you and expressed Captain America’s deepest apologies before opening the door to the backseat for you. As you drove, you couldn’t believe all that had happened in the past few hours— it was such a whirlwind, you barely had time to think straight. And now a strange man was driving you God-knows-where to supposedly go on a date with Captain America, who couldn’t pick you up himself because “something came up”. Despite your jokes you really didn’t think Steve was a serial killer, but you sure were putting a lot of trust in him. 

But how could you not? From the first moment you met him he had been friendly, helpful, and kind. He seemed like a real gentleman, and they don’t make those like they used to. You thought about how secure you had felt on his shoulder, and when his arm was around you in the coffee shop— like nothing bad could happen to you. You wanted to sink into that feeling, sink into him. And if that meant that someone who shared a name with a cartoon character had to drive you to an undisclosed location, well, then you would just try to have faith... And make sure Liv periodically checked your location on Find my Friends. 

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t really take note of where you were going until you were at an airport. You drove through a side gate and parked not too far from a whole row of planes. Happy opened your door and walked you directly to one of the aircraft: a large, sleek black jet with “Stark Industries” written on the side. Happy escorted you up the steps of the plane and inside. The interior was unlike any plane you had ever seen: instead of cramped rows of small seats it was open, spacious and opulent. There were plush leather seats, gleaming wooden tables, and large televisions. 

“Nice, huh?” Happy said next to you. 

“Very nice,” you agreed. “But where’s it taking me? Where’s Steve?”

“He’s still tied up. He’ll meet you. Have a seat. Gertrude here,” he gestured to an older blonde woman, “will be your stewardess. She will get you anything you need.” He tapped his phone. “I just sent you my contact information. For emergencies only, got it?” 

You nodded in response, bewildered by how quickly and casually he was relaying all of this crazy information. 

He continued, “Sit back and enjoy your flight. Flight time today is around 2 hours.” He turned to leave. 

“Wait!” You weren’t sure what to ask other than: _What the hell is going on here?_

“I know, I know,” he sighed sympathetically. “And I’ll let you in on a secret: you never really get used to these crazy situations. Just try to enjoy yourself. Have a glass of champagne. Tony only stocks the good stuff.” He winked at you before getting off the plane. 

You supposed you had no choice other than to do just that. You sat down and Gertrude went to a cabinet and returned with a glass and a bottle of champagne. She opened the bottle with a pop and diligently poured you a glass before turning to leave. 

“Would you like to join me?” you asked, gesturing at the seat across from you. 

She hesitated for a moment, but you would really enjoy the company (and the opportunity to try and figure out what was going on). “Please?” you asked with a smile. She nodded, but before she could sit you encouraged her to pour herself a glass. That second request didn’t take nearly as much convincing, as she happily poured herself a glass and came to sit across from you. You clinked your glasses together as the plane started moving. 

“Thank you, Gertrude.”

“Call me Gertie.”

“Well, Gertie, Happy said that the flight was two hours. Can you give me a hint of where we’re going? I don’t even know what’s two hours from here. Chicago? Maine?”

“Oh, sweetheart, in two hours we could be anywhere! This is a Stark Industries Hypersonic Jet: this baby can get you to Tokyo in under 4 hours!” 

She leaned back in her seat and put her feet up on the table. For being at work she seemed mighty comfortable. She must have seen what you were thinking on your face because she said, “Oh, don’t worry dear. I’m tenured!” Her good-natured laugh set you at ease. 

You got to know more about her, and she was eager to spill all the tea on the Avengers and the things that had happened on this jet. Apparently this was Tony Stark’s favorite leisure aircraft and as such had seen some pretty wild things. Gertie’s repeated assurances that the jet had been thoroughly cleaned were anything but comforting, and you tried not to think too hard about what activities may have happened in the seat you were occupying. It was easy to get distracted, as Gertie regaled you with stories and liberally poured (herself) the champagne (you were still on your first glass!). 

Gertie knew everything: how Sam liked to sing Aretha Franklin when he was wine drunk, how she thinks she caught Steve and Bucky messing around but she wasn’t sure because she didn't actually see anything, and how bad Peter was at writing essays. It seemed like the only thing she couldn't tell you was where you were headed. Even she wasn’t privy to that information. 

You were definitely interested in more information about the Steve and Bucky situation but weren’t sure how to casually work that into the conversation. Did she know that you were supposed to be going on dates with both of them?

“Um...so...Steve…and...Bucky...?” _Great job, Amy! Super casual and natural way to ask if the guys you’re supposed to be dating really want to be dating each other._

Gertie threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. He likes girls. Thor planned an Asgardian Orgy for him on this very plane and there were naked men _and_ women— naked _people—_ _everywhere_.” 

“Wait, what?!”

Gertie took a gleeful sip of her fourth glass of champagne before continuing, leaning in and talking low even though nobody else was around. “Steve was really down about something and Thor decided to cheer him up the best way he knew how: a sex party with the best Asgardian drugs and alcohol.” 

“I know I don’t know him very well, but that doesn’t sound like Steve.” 

“It doesn’t! That’s why he hid in the bathroom all night! Poor thing! But the moral of the story is that while his hands didn’t wander, his eyes did, and he was checking out _everyone_ in attendance.” 

“Alright,” you said. She had provided you with _an_ answer, but it wasn’t quite the answer to the question you had asked. You supposed there were only two people on the planet that could actually answer your question, and you had dates lined up with both of them. You decided to just enjoy your dates, see how they went, and if necessary actually talk to Steve and Bucky about this, rather than conjecturing with Gertie over a glass of champagne. 

You knew just the thing to steer the conversation away from that topic: “Do you have any pictures of your grandkids?” 

That was how you ended up spending the next half hour of your life looking at zillions of photos of Gertie’s grandchildren. It was really sweet to see how her eyes lit up when she told stories about them. She had a lot of pictures of and stories about Morgan too, who she considered an adopted granddaughter. You were discussing the messes Morgan could make at the dinner table when an automated voice sounded over the PA system:

“Captain Rogers approaching.” 

Almost instantly there was a loud thud on the right side of the plane and a loud whooshing sound. You about had a heart attack as the exit door slid open, but were instantly relieved when Steve walked through it. His hair was a little bit disheveled and his shirt was missing a few buttons, but he had a smile on his face and immediately came to hug you. 

“I am so sorry I’m late!”

“Don’t worry! Me and Gertie are having a great time! Would you like some champagne?”

“Sure,” he said, accepting the glass that Gertie poured him. He took a long drink before sitting down. 

“Well it looks like you had a hell of a time getting ready for the date,” you teased. You gestured to his unkempt appearance. “Trouble deciding on your outfit?” 

He laughed. “Something like that. Actually, I’ll be right back.” He left and came back with a new dress shirt, tie, and jacket. “We always keep some spare dress clothes, just in case.”

“In all seriousness, is everything ok?”

“It will be!” Gertie said, wobbling over to Steve and re-filling his glass to the brim. He had to sip quickly to keep from spilling. You escorted Gertie to a seat, taking her glass from her. 

“Alright, Gertie. You’re cut off.” You laughed as she pouted and you brought her a bottle of water. She drank it obediently as you made your way back to Steve. 

“I thought people who worked for the Avengers would be more…“ _NDAed_

“Most of them are but Gertie has been working for the Starks forever. Pretty sure she babysat Tony when she was a teenager.” 

“Well, she’s great. And she told me _a lot_ of information about what goes down on this plane.” 

Steve turned a little pink but before he could respond he was interrupted by the pilot announcing that you would be touching down momentarily. 

“When do I find out where we are?” you asked.

“Something tells me you’ll figure it out pretty soon,” he said. You put your shoes back on and reapplied your lipgloss. When the plane came to a stop you stood up and smoothed out your dress, hoping you still looked alright. 

You looked up to see Steve staring at you. “You look incredible,” he said. 

Your face grew hot but you tried to play it cool as you smiled politely at him and thanked him for the compliment. With all that time spent chatting with Gertie you had let your guard down. The cool-girl persona you had intended to wear for the evening had slipped off, but you didn’t feel the need to put it back on. 

“Shall we?” Steve offered his arm and escorted you down the stairs of the plane and into the waiting limo. As you drove from the airport you had your eyes glued out the window, trying to determine where you were. It definitely looked like Europe, but when you slowed down you saw signs in French. You looked back at Steve in shock. He just shrugged and said, “Bienvenue.” 

The driver pulled up to the green right in front of the Eiffel Tower. There weren’t many people out, and the sky was clear. A few stars shone up there, but nothing matched the golden shimmer of the Eiffel Tower. As it shifted from sparkling to solid gold, Steve offered you his hand and the two of you walked closer. His palm was surprisingly soft, given his profession. His hold was surprisingly gentle, considering his strength. You would have been content to just stay like that forever: holding his hand and resisting the urge to rub the back of it with your thumb, walking slowly and quietly in the pleasant night air; hushed into silence by the mesmerizing picture in front of you. 

You two walked all the way to the base of the Tower, where you were greeted by an attendant who called the elevator for you. You didn’t even know there was an elevator in the Eiffel Tower— where did it even lead to? There was no time to ponder these questions as you entered the glass elevator and rode it to your destination. The lighting in the elevator was dim, and as the elevator ascended shadows played across Steve’s face in the most entrancing way. He caught you staring and the corner of his mouth tugged up in a smile. You smiled back but looked away, only to look back at him and catch _him_ staring at _you_. The two of you shared a nervous laugh as the elevator slowed to a stop. When you stepped out of the elevator and into a room, both you and Steve gasped. 

The room was a positive explosion of candles and flowers. Gleaming golden candelabras provided a warm, wavering glow and red roses covering every surface supplied a light floral scent. The roses were interspersed with baby’s breath and looked lovely, but you internally willed your pollen allergies to behave. The only space free of red and gold was a small square table by the window with a white tablecloth and two place settings. Beautiful classical music softly played, the hauntingly beautiful notes of string instruments reverberating through the room. 

A waiter smiled at your expressions and led you to the table. Steve pulled out your chair for you and you sat down, unable to fully take in your surroundings. From your new vantage point you could see that the music was coming from a piano quintet that was seated in the corner, everyone dressed in long dresses and fancy tuxes. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered underneath your breath. Unfortunately, Steve’s advanced hearing allowed him to hear that and he chuckled lightly. 

“Do you like it?” He nervously fiddled with his silverware. “I know that it’s a lot. If it’s too much, we can—” 

“Are you kidding? This place is incredible!” 

You were rewarded with his smile. 

You could not believe that Steve thought there was even a possibility that you wouldn’t swoon over this date. _Anyone_ would be lucky to have such an amazing night, and considering that it was your first date in 25 years you would have settled for a trip to the local hot dog cart and a smack on the ass. This— the live music and roses and private restaurant inside of the freaking Eiffel tower—was a moment that only the most ambitious and high budget rom-coms could pull off. And to top it off you were here with a gorgeous guy who seemed super great. 

This moment was so perfect that you felt like if you spoke too loud or too much you would ruin it. You couldn’t look anywhere because it was too beautiful: the room, Steve, even the view; when you looked out the window you saw Paris at night, the city lights winking at you. You were glad to see that Steve looked a little nervous. It made you feel better to know that he was feeling it too. 

A waiter appeared to fill your wine glasses, interrupting your internal monologue. He ceremoniously poured a small amount of wine into Steve’s glass for his approval. Instead of tasting the wine though, Steve pointed to you and said, “Oh, no. _She’s_ the boss.” 

The waiter murmured hurried apologies to both of you and poured you a sample. You tasted it and of course it was perfect. You nodded your approval and the waiter filled your glasses and then rushed off. 

You smirked at your date. “I’m the boss? You takin’ orders from me now, Captain?”

He blushed in response. He was a really, _really_ cute blusher. He responded, “On alcohol, at least. I don’t drink much.”

“Why not? You never get a night off from being America’s clean-cut golden boy?”

“Come to think of it, no. But also I can’t get drunk. At least, not off this stuff,” he gestured to the wine in the glass. “Super fast metabolism” 

“So if you shotgunned a bottle of vodka?”

“Nothing.”

“So you can never be drunk?”

“Well, not on normal alcohol. Banner created some stuff that was supposed to poison the Hulk, but it ended up just getting him drunk. Tastes awful but one shot of that stuff and I was doing a karaoke duet of ‘Respect’ with Sam.”

“I _have_ to meet drunk karaoke Steve!” 

“It might be a while before I do that again. Bucky is still blackmailing me with that video!”

“Well if I can’t meet karaoke Steve in person, I’ll have to ask Bucky to send me the video.” 

Steve was interrupted from telling you not to do that by the waiter, who rolled up with a cart, “Fondue.” 

Steve choked a little in surprise. “What?”

“Monsieur it is a blend of the finest Comté, Beaufort, and Reblochon cheeses as well as fresh baked breads and local charcuteries.” 

He laid out the fondue pot of melty cheese as well as the plate of various breads, meats, and steamed vegetables for dipping. 

“You lactose intolerant or something?” you asked Steve, wondering why he got so surprised at the mention of fondue. 

“What?”

“The way you reacted to the fondue...”

“Oh. It’s nothing. I thought he said something else,” he said quickly. 

You weren’t convinced but you decided to drop it, stabbing a piece of bread with your stick and dipping it in the cheese. 

“How is it?” he asked.

“Delicious. Hot,” you said through a mouthful of bread and hot cheese. _Nice one, Amy. Very sexy._

“Title of your sex tape?” Steve said softly, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he would regret saying it. You had heard the reference loud and clear though.

He really wasn’t kidding about putting your recommendations at the top of his list. “I can’t believe you started Brooklyn Nine-Nine already!”

“Bucky and I watched all of Season 1 last night. It’s so funny!” 

Now that Steve understood Boyle’s pizza email blast he was tempted to create his own ranking of all of the things he had tried from the future. It would list all of the things he liked (sushi, FaceTime) and things he didn’t (global warming, skinny jeans). You and Steve talked about how you had both been to Paris before but hadn’t had the time to really enjoy it, and bonded over your shared desire to travel for leisure. You wanted to explore what the world had to offer without the pressures of work or school.

There were lots of dishes whose names you couldn’t pronounce, whose portions were too small, and whose ingredients were often strange, but you were so focused on the conversation that you didn’t really care. You hardly noticed the food at all. That is until your crème brûlée arrived. The delicious dessert got your full attention, pulling you out of the conversation with Steve and back into the restaurant. All of your surroundings had dropped away during conversation and were slowly coming back into focus. 

You were truly tasting the food, hearing the music...and feeling the air conditioning. You fought off external shivering for as long as possible, trying to avoid a repeat of the previous day. You eventually shivered. You tried to play it off but Steve was already standing up and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“I came prepared this time!” he said as he walked over to your side of the table and placed his jacket around your shoulders. It was warm and it smelled like him and you held it tight to you. 

“Thanks, Steve,” you said as he sat back down. “I would have brought a jacket but it didn't really go with the outfit, you see?”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, from now on I will make sure to bring an emergency jacket to all of our dates.” 

“All of our future dates? Someone’s feeling confident.” You teased him, but it warmed your heart to hear that he was thinking about more dates. 

“I mean…d’ya think you’d wanna go out with me again?” The way he bashfully rubbed the nape of his neck was incredibly endearing. 

“I’d love to,” you smiled at him. 

Almost as if on cue, the music swelled and Steve asked you to dance. You shrugged off his jacket and draped it across your chair, taking his hand and letting him lead you closer to the music. His right hand rested respectfully in the middle of your back, his left hand clasped your right. He held you close enough that you could feel his body heat and smell his cologne but far away enough that your bodies didn’t touch. Being that close to him was intoxicating and being that far from him was maddening. 

You wanted to close the distance. His hand was warm on your back and you almost wished he was less of a gentleman, that his hand would slide a little lower, that he would use his hold on you to pull you closer. 

You swayed slowly. He was a very reserved dancer. A couple of languid turns here and there but nothing too fancy. That meant that every point of contact burned slowly, each move side to side stoking the fire brighter until your entire body was ablaze with the need to be closer to him. How could he _not_ be feeling this? This desire to get closer, hold on tighter. And if he felt it, why wasn’t he acting on it? 

The air was heavy with pollen. With all of your senses overwhelmed (and seeking release) you eventually sneezed. 

Steve said, “You’ll have to prove to me how functional you are on our next date.”

You both laughed and danced to the rest of the song before deciding to leave. You were almost glad that the moment had been burst. Maybe he was content to keep dancing while leaving room for Jesus, but you didn’t think you could handle another moment of being _almost_ close enough. 

He gave you one last turn and thanked the musicians. He took his jacket off the back of your chair and draped it back across your shoulders. You took the elevator down and were back outside. You savored the night air. It was the middle of the night here and anything felt possible. Your hands found each other as you walked back towards the waiting car. You kinda weren’t ready to leave.

“So…” Steve said. “We can go back to the jet and fly back to New York right now. Or we can stay in Paris a little longer if you like.”

“Let’s stay!”

He grinned at you and your heart fluttered. You continued walking away from the Eiffel Tower, past the car, and onto a bridge overlooking the Seine. You stopped in the middle of the bridge and looked out across the dark water. You turned back to Steve. He was looking at you intently. You suddenly felt breathless and nervous. He took a few steps towards you until he was right in front of you. He put one hand on your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes as he leaned in slowly, cautiously, as if he were afraid you wouldn’t want this. As if you hadn’t been yearning for it. Your noses were touching now, and you placed your hands on his shoulders, encouraging him forward as you raised up on your toes, trying to get closer. 

Both of his hands went to your hips and he lifted you and sat you on the bridge railing so you wouldn’t have to strain to kiss him. 

“Thanks for the boost,” you murmured, your lips _almost_ touching his. 

He laughed softly. “Any time.” 

Your lips finally closed the distance. The kiss was chaste at first; soft and sweet. You could feel that you were both holding yourselves back from rushing in with reckless abandon. Your arms traveled around his shoulders, holding him close to you, almost as if you feared he’d slip away. He stepped forward into the space between your legs and his grip on your hips tightened as he breathed more passion into the kiss. 

He pulled back sooner than you would have liked and you slowly opened your eyes to look at him. 

“I thought I was the boss tonight, Captain. Did I tell you to stop kissin’ me?”

“If we keep kissing I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go,” he said softly, searching your eyes.

_I don’t want you to let me go._

_Why would you let me—_

_Bucky._

_You’re going out with his best friend tomorrow, remember?_

You leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips and he helped you down from the railing. You joined hands again and kept walking across the bridge and into the streets of the city.

“How do you feel about breakfast in Paris?” Steve asked. 

“That sounds amazing,” you said. 

“Great. I made some hotel reservations at—” 

You shot him a look with raised eyebrows. “Oh, I see. That gentleman thing is just an act,” you teased. 

“I made the reservations just in case! And I got a separate room in case you didn't want to share and if you want to leave we can—”

You laughed. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.” 

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m...like that. I’m not. All I want to do right now is get into some comfy clothes and order some real food off the Room Service menu. That place was beautiful, but I’m _hungry_.”

You laughed. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’m hungry too.” 

In just a few minutes you were in front of a large building. Steve led you inside and you barely had time to appreciate the grand lobby when a bellman immediately appeared, greeting you and leading you to your room. You thought you had already filled your Shock and Awe quota for the night but apparently not. 

A butler was waiting in the suite to show you around, starting in a massive living room with gilded walls, large ornamental vases, and even a fireplace! The back wall of the living room was made entirely of glass and had a door leading onto a huge terrace. The room had a fantastic view of the Eiffel Tower. The suite also had a dining room and a butler’s kitchen. You and Steve exchanged bewildered looks at this level of luxury— you were glad he seemed as astounded at this hotel room as you. The final stop on the tour was the bedroom. It was a room fit for a queen, decked out in shades of blue and gold. A king-size bed was elegantly framed by a draped silk canopy while a portrait of a princess graced the wall. The bathroom was equally opulent in white and gold, featuring a deep soaking tub and heated floors. There was also a separate dressing room, and you were surprised to see that it was filled with clothes.

The tour completed, the butler left, letting you know how to contact him if you needed anything. 

“Pepper took care of getting you some clothes,” Steve said, gesturing at the clothing in the closet. You walked inside. The racks were full of beautiful clothing that looked (and even smelled) expensive. There were clothes for all occasions, and all of them were in your size. The selection included a wide range of pajamas from frumpy to sexy. Steve also had a small selection of clothes to choose from. 

“Wear whatever you want, and you can keep whatever you like,” he said to you. 

“How did you…?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. Pepper said that she would have our artificial intelligence system FRIDAY run an analysis to determine your size and style. So if you like the clothes then you have FRIDAY to thank and if you hate them then you have FRIDAY to blame.”

“While I do have thoughts on the surveillance state created by modern technology, I’m not going to look a gift AI in the mouth,” you said, browsing through the pajama options. “It _is_ interesting however that FRIDAY ordered me lingerie. She did this all on her own?” You eyed a blingy push-up bra with a matching thong. “I don’t see any crotchless panties in _your_ section of the closet.” 

“No,” he said. “But there’s this!” He held up a pair of tiny silver spandex booty shorts. 

You both started laughing. 

“OK, now I _have_ to see drunk karaoke Steve wearing nothing but those.” 

“There’s not enough Hulk poison in the WORLD!” Steve said. 

Steve put the metallic monstrosity back on the rack and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “I’m gonna get changed in the room, give you some privacy,” he said. 

You called after him, “When you bring me my raisin bran in the morning I want you to wear those. Presentation is half of the experience!”

You heard him laughing and smiled to yourself. Now it was time for you to actually decide on a pair of pajamas for the night. You wanted to set the right vibe for the evening, immediately ruling out the nipple tassels and floor-length nightgowns. Somewhere in the middle of the spectrum you found short satin shorts and a matching lacy bralette with surprisingly good support. You looked sexy but still cute. You went into the bedroom to find Steve sitting on the bed going through the room service menu. He looked up and his mouth fell open. He quickly closed it and swallowed hard. 

“Um...I…” He blushed and looked down at his lap. You supposed you had done a good job of picking outfits. You sat down next to him on the bed. 

He regrouped, tapping the menu with his fingers. “I picked out some things that looked good on here— did you want to take a look and see if there’s anything else you want to get?”

“Nah, I trust you.”

You were right to trust him as you heard him speak the order into the phone: French onion soup, croque monsieurs, french fries, millefeuille — the man had a serious appetite. As you waited for your food you leaned back against the mountain of pillows and took in the surroundings. 

“Jesus, this place is insane,” you muttered. 

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Steve said. 

“I thought you’d be used to this kinda stuff by now.”

“I don’t think you ever get used to stuff like this. It’s beautiful for sure but also...kind of wasteful?” 

“Yeah. While I like the nice sheets and 24/7 room service, the decor is a little extravagant. It’s the kind of place that makes peasants revolt and chop heads off.”

He laughed. “I probably should have stuck with a simple dinner in New York. I don’t know what I was thinking letting Tony—”

“Hey! You be nice to my date! I had a great time tonight,” you said.

And you continued to have a great time, eating some actually-filling food and watching French movies on TV. Because Steve spoke French and you didn't, you played a game where you narrated what you thought was happening and he told you if you were right or not. Sometimes you were spot on, but you were mostly way off, leaving the two of you in fits of laughter. 

“While that movie is a classic, I like your version with evil twins and secret treasure much better,” Steve said. 

You both went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. There were two sinks and a collection of toiletries for each of you. You noticed the pile by your sink was a lot larger than his and included all of your favorite skincare items as well as some you had been wanting to try. You decided not to think too hard about technology and privacy and enjoyed the expensive moisturizer that had been on your wishlist for years now. 

There was also a bag with pads, tampons, and various medicines as well as your prescription medications. FRIDAY, however creepy, had thought of everything. You also found some hair supplies, including a purple satin bonnet. You grabbed it instinctively, grateful for the sake of your hair, before remembering the company you were in. You had never had a sleepover with anyone other than your closest friends. You had never worn a bonnet around a romantic partner before—especially not a white one. Steve seemed to notice your internal debate. Something told you he would advise you to be practical in this situation, not insecure. You felt the need to explain, turning to him with the bonnet in hand.

“Bonnet!” he pointed excitedly, like a toddler who had just learned a new word. 

“What do you know about bonnets?”

“I got a mini-lecture when Sam saw a picture of you. That lecture included _a lot_ of stuff about hair.” 

If you ever met Sam, you’d have to thank him for saving you from this explanation. You donned your bonnet. When both of you were ready for bed you walked back into the bedroom, Steve hesitating awkwardly. 

“You can of course sleep here with me if you want, but if you want to go to sleep in the other room, I can show you where it is. Or, if you like this room better, I can go sleep in the other—”

“Here’s fine. It’ll be easier for you to bring me breakfast in bed if we’re in the same bed,” you said, crossing the room and jumping on the soft, spacious bed.

Steve joined you, keeping a respectful distance. You were relieved and disappointed at the same time: on the one hand, your lack of experience made you grateful to not be pressured into anything physical; on the other hand, kissing him had been so nice, and you definitely felt that there was some unfinished business there. You wondered what it would be like when neither of you held back. The thought scared and excited you. You bade him goodnight and then the lights were out. 

As you laid there in the dark and quiet, body hyperaware of Steve’s presence and mind still reeling from the incredible night, you suddenly remembered that tomorrow you had a date with Bucky. That was a whole ‘nother set of complications. You couldn’t imagine that you would have a better date tomorrow—you weren’t sure that was even possible. You decided not to worry about that right now and focused on generating some body heat under the covers. Hotel rooms were always freezing and bougie ones were apparently no exception. Your skimpy outfit, while cute, did not help much. You looked around for a room thermostat before remembering that you had a (very handsome) source of heat right next to you.

“Steve?” 

His eyes opened. He looked a little apprehensive. “Yeah?”

“I’m cold. Can I borrow some of your body heat?” 

He laughed with relief. “Get over here,” he said, using one arm to grab you and effortlessly pull you closer to him until your back rested against his chest, a large arm wrapped around your torso. 

You relaxed into him and fell asleep quickly. 

… 

When you woke up you were disoriented at first. The blue and gold silk bedspread you were cocooned in was a far cry from the floral pattern that usually greeted your eyes when you first woke up. You turned to the source of movement next to you and saw Steve, his blond hair mussed up by sleep. The details of yesterday’s adventure came back to you and you smiled. He opened his eyes and smiled back at you. 

“If it wasn’t for that smile I might be mad at you for all the blanket-hogging,” Steve said. Somehow during the course of the night you had wrapped all of the covers around you and Steve was left without. You were trying to muster up some sympathy for him, but you were too distracted by his sexy morning voice.

He continued, “I’ve had earth-invading aliens put up less of a fight than you when I tried to get some covers from you last night.” 

You laughed. “I’m sorry. Sleeping Amy is very territorial until you’ve gained her trust.” 

Without thinking you loosened the cocoon so the covers were around your shoulders and then you straddled Steve, laying your head down on his chest and spreading the covers over both of you. “There,” you said. You felt his chest rise with surprise and then he exhaled, sinking into you, his arms coming around to hold you close to him, and you dozed off again. 

You next woke to the sound of him speaking lowly into the room telephone, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of his voice. He was ordering breakfast, by the sounds of it. You both brushed your teeth and splashed water on your face before the food came.

“They didn’t have waffles,” he explained, gesturing to the crepes. You could not believe he remembered your off-hand comment from yesterday about your breakfast preferences. 

“I don’t know Steve, I’ll have to dock some points for that,” you joked. 

“No, Amy, please! I’ll do anything!” he pleaded in jest. 

“Anything?”

“Anything,” he responded seriously, causing a mood shift. 

“Kiss me,” you said softly. He blushed and leaned in for a quick kiss, both of you grinning when you pulled away. 

You ate in bed, enjoying the slow morning, talking about everything and nothing. Sunlight was streaming in through the large window, and you could see the Eiffel Tower from where you sat. It didn't feel real.

You were chatting about how your childhood selves could never have imagined this hotel and brainstorming kid-friendly improvements to the room (such as a ball pit and candy dispensers) when there was a loud knock on the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and you saw Steve transition into Captain America mode, gesturing for you to stay in the bedroom as he got up to investigate. He checked the door’s peephole and sighed heavily. 

“Go away,” he said through the door. He didn't even wait for a response before he came back into the bedroom, locked that door and put a chair in front of it, and came back to you. He flopped on the bed. “Your other suitor is here.” 

“Bucky?”

Steve just nodded in agreement. He hesitated for just a moment before pulling you in for a kiss. It was hurried, needy. The kiss said: “Don’t forget me.” Like he wanted to ask you not to leave him, but he knew he couldn’t. You kissed him back, knowing that if he had asked you to stay you would have said yes. He pulled away right as Bucky burst through the door, rolling gracefully across the floor before coming to a stop. He knelt by the bedside.

“My lady,” he said gallantly, causing you to laugh at how silly he was being. “You ready for a real date, darlin’?”

Steve responded before you could open your mouth: “Shut up, Buck. I got her dinner _and_ breakfast.”

You sighed, overexaggerating your exasperation about being talked about in the third person. “Not this again!” you chastised. “That’s it! I’m showering. And neither of you can join me.” 

“Go ahead and pack a bag!” Bucky called after you. “We’re leaving as soon as you’re ready!” 

You weren’t sure how to feel as you headed towards the bathroom, but figured you’d get ready now and sort out your feelings later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based the suite design off of two real rooms at the Shangri-La Hotel in Paris: L’Appartement Prince Bonaparte and La Suite Shangri-La. 
> 
> Just thought I’d share in case any of y’all have a few thousand extra dollars lying around and wanted to spend a night in Paris (if you actually do have that kinda cash tho you should consider buying me a coffee. Ko-fi: girlygirl14534). 
> 
> Don't forget to check out the moodboard and playlist for Steve's date on my Instagram, twitter, and tumblr (@girlygirl14534)!


	5. Under The Tuscan Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s date! Tuscany! Wine! Art! Romance!

They watched you walk into the bathroom and waited to hear the shower running before Steve spoke.“Tuscany, huh? A little tip: she prefers white wine.”

“How did you …?”

Steve shrugged with a cocky grin. “I’ve got my sources. By the way, thanks for barging in like that.”

“Looks like I came just in time,” Bucky said. 

Bucky said “Title of my sex tape,” at the same time Steve said “Title of your sex tape,” and both of them laughed. 

“Seriously though, it looks like things went well,” Bucky said carefully. 

“I think they did,” Steve smiled. 

That smile made Bucky nervous. Steve was obviously smitten. If Bucky’s date with you went half as well he’d probably be sporting that dopey grin too, meaning that sometime soon one of their hearts would be broken. Bucky realized that if you chose Steve, not only would he lose you, but he’d lose Steve too; lose the possibility that Steve would ever smile about him like that. Bucky pushed those thoughts away and decided to go back to lighthearted joking. 

“Damn it! To think I spent all night keeping Rocket and Loki from blowing up the Eiffel Tower!” 

“Well, it’s the least you could do after that ambush!”

“I’m sorry about that. I had no idea that they sent those guys after you. When they told me that I was going to steal your date I knew something was up.” He shook his head at Rocket and Loki’s antics, and at the crazy situations he and Steve always found themselves in. It was usually Steve instigating the trouble, but this time it was all him. 

_Meanwhile, inside the bathroom…_

You were almost ready. There were so many beautiful clothes here, and you packed your favorites into a small suitcase. For today you had decided to wear a yellow sundress. The color was perfect against your skin. The dress was knee length and showcased a little more cleavage than your dress from last night but it was less form-fitting. When you came out of the bathroom, Steve and Bucky stopped talking and beamed at you. With both their brights turned on you, you melted on the spot. 

“You look beautiful,” Steve said. 

“Like a ray of sunshine,” Bucky agreed. 

You smiled back at them, unused to this kind of attention.

“Ready?” Bucky asked you. 

“Ready,” you confirmed. 

“Alright, you two. Have fun. But not too much fun!” Steve said. 

You all laughed and Bucky grabbed your bag from you. 

You waved Steve goodbye, unsure if you should hug him or not. Bucky took the lead by hugging Steve first, and you followed, giving him a big hug before leaving. You gave him one last glance as you left the bedroom and he gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Seeing him like that broke your heart. You didn’t want to leave him, but you felt like you owed Bucky a chance. 

You drove to the airport and took another flight, this one only twenty minutes. You and Bucky chatted pleasantly on the way to the airport and on the plane, carefully avoiding the topic of your date with Steve. He asked you about your time traveling in Europe and you told him. You rambled about your first trip to Paris and your time in Venice during Carnevale. 

You touched down in a field in what you recognized as the Tuscan countryside; the greenery familiar to you from when you had visited a few years ago. 

“Benvenuta a Toscana,” Bucky said as he escorted you down the steps of the plane. 

“Ben _tornata,_ ” you corrected him. He looked impressed, and you rushed to remedy that. “I don’t remember much Italian from my time in Florence so don’t get too excited.” 

“Well, welcome _back_ to Tuscany.” 

“Grazie.” 

Instead of the chauffeured black car that had driven you and Steve last night, Bucky had opted to drive a sleek silver convertible. You roared down the road, exhilarated. Normally the fast speed would scare you, but if there was anyone you trusted to drive you like this it was him. The sun shining down on you, the wind flowing through your clothes, and the green landscapes whizzing past you made you realize how little you got out of the city, or outside at all for that matter. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the overwhelming feeling of freedom.

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky asked bemusedly. He himself looked relaxed; he was leaned back, driving with one hand while his free arm draped over the back of your seat.

You wanted to see if it was as easy to get him to blush as Steve. You turned to him and simply responded, “You.” He smiled an easy smile but his pink cheeks gave him away. _Score._

You turned down a long drive and drove up to a beautiful stone castle, complete with a watchtower. Bucky was around the car in a flash to open your door and help you out. There was a handsome older Italian man waiting out front, smiling like a Cheshire cat. 

“Signor, Signora, welcome to our Castello! I am Mario Moretti and this property has been in my family for 500 years. I will take you on a tour of the property now, if you please.” 

An attendant took your suitcase and Bucky’s duffel out of the car. 

“We will have your bags taken to your rooms,” Mario said.

“Rooms? Plural? My, Barnes, you've lost your confidence,” you teased. 

“On the contrary. The second room is actually for my wardrobe,” he said.

“And your hair products?” You gestured to his beautiful head of hair. 

He nodded, laughing. You turned your attention back to your guide, who led you on a tour of the grounds. Mario explained the history of the property and how his family had been producing wine and olive oil on the land for centuries. He took you on a tour of the castle’s wine cellars, finally leading you into a beautiful dining room where a table had been set for you and Bucky. It was a simple, elegant setup and you each had four wine glasses on the table. 

You had a wine-tasting lunch with multiple courses that you could barely keep track of. Everything was delicious, and the portions were a lot larger than they had been at the restaurant last night. There was plenty of bread and olive oil on the table, and you had to admit you _almost_ missed the saltless Tuscan bread. 

With each course the servers poured you a new wine, explaining the pairings. You assumed that Bucky, like Steve, couldn’t get drunk, but that didn’t stop him from savoring each sip, really appreciating the wine. You, on the other hand, were not a big drinker, and struggled to keep up with the multiplying glasses of alcohol, especially since you and Bucky talked so much. He seemed to notice your predicament, quirking an eyebrow at you and you shrugged helplessly: you were too far behind. He tipped the remains of your glasses into his and you smiled in gratitude that he saved you from offending your host. You knew from experience how offended Italians could get if you didn’t finish their food.

There were portraits of members of the Moretti family throughout the centuries around the room, and Bucky noticed you looking at them. 

“Did you get to see a lot of art when you were here before?” he asked. 

“I did. I took an art history class taught by an old Catholic priest that I’m pretty sure was alive during the Renaissance.” 

“Did you have any favorite pieces?” 

“On one of our trips to the Uffizi we saw Filippo Lippi’s Madonna and Child. Every detail on the Madonna was so lovely— you could tell that the model was his lover. The story of the painting really adds to it: a nun falling in love and running away from the convent is such a juicy detail. And I love the mischief on the face of the angel. That painting really stuck out to me.” 

Bucky was looking thoughtfully into the distance. “I know the painting.” 

“I feel like there’s more to this story.”

“I stole the original in the 60s. Replaced it with an impeccable fake, obviously. I haven’t thought about it since...I wonder where the real one is.” 

“Sorry, you _what?_ ” 

“I used to work for some bad people. One time they needed me to steal some art. The Uffizi job was 60 years ago, now.” 

“It’s sad to think that no one since then has really seen that painting.”

“Well, the forgery is so good that not even the people that work with it every day noticed. It’s basically the same thing.” 

“Yeah, but when you hear that story of a forbidden liaison and you’re looking at the product of it, I think it means something to be looking at the _actual_ canvas, the _actual_ paint, the _actual_ brushstrokes he made while he was looking at her.”

“I always thought that what people didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Especially since no one actually got hurt in that job. That’s a win for me, considering...” 

“Oh, you don’t have to justify anything to me— I know that _you_ didn’t actually do that.” 

“Well, it’s kind of complicated…”

“Is it? The official story I heard was that they had you mind-controlled, and that you were doing all that stuff against your will. Is that not right?”

“It is, but—”

“There are no ‘but’s about it. You don’t have to answer for their crimes.”

“You sound like Steve.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Steve’s right.”

You both laughed. 

“Now, tell me how you stole the art. Heists are so cool!” you said. 

And so he spent the rest of lunch telling you his heist story. He was a great storyteller and told you all his best heist stories. He also critiqued the plots of your favorite spy movies for accuracy and you loved every minute of it. 

After lunch the two of you decided to go on a walk, wandering through the grounds until you reached a beautiful garden. It hadn’t been part of the official tour, which had focused on wine and olive oil-making. 

Wisteria-covered arches transported the two of you to a world of your own; a wall of cypress trees effectively blocking out the rest of the world. Rich green topiaries spiraled towards the heavens and statues of cherubim completed the fresco. A large fountain featured statues of fish shooting jets of water and mermaids preening themselves. The bubbling and splashing of the fountain added the calming sound of water to the chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The breeze carried along with it the intoxicating scent of thyme and lemon blossoms.

You wandered for a while, Bucky at your side, the garden becoming more enchanted with each passing moment as Bucky shared its secrets with you. He had extensive knowledge of flora and fauna and pointed out different species to you, explaining their histories of cultivation. His explanations added so much to the beauty of the gardens, and you loved seeing this side of him as he nerded out about plants. You now knew what your family and friends experienced when you were trying to discuss a book they had never read with them. You always tried to rein it in, figuring it was probably annoying. But now, listening to Bucky discuss the comparative merits of theories about who introduced the noble cypress tree to Tuscany— the Etruscans or the Romans— you felt like you could listen to him for hours. And considering the list he had asked you for yesterday ( _God, was it only_ yesterday _that you met him?_ ), you felt that he just might be the one to appreciate your book ramblings. 

When Bucky looked to make sure that he wasn’t boring you, all he found was your smiling face. He grabbed your hand and led you down a tree-lined path. His hand was warm and solid against yours. Light and shadow intermingled, the dappled light playing across his features. You were reminded of last night in the elevator with Steve. Steve. Your other suitor. You _almost_ wished this date with Bucky wasn’t going so well— it would make your decision a lot easier. 

But no, Bucky seemed determined to make the choice impossible. He led you to a stone patio with a wooden pergola and sheer white curtains. There were white couches and chairs, as well as two massage tables and two masseuses. 

“Would you like an olive oil massage? They say it’s their specialty,” he said. 

You agreed quickly: you would never turn down an opportunity for pampering. You each disrobed behind a privacy screen and wrapped yourselves in towels. As you got changed you called over to your date: 

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Be honest. Is this just an excuse to get me naked?” 

He laughed. “Am I that transparent?”

“Hey, I’m fine with it as long as I get a happy ending,” you joked to yourself. You were startled to hear him laugh and then remembered the whole superhero thing, which meant that he could actually hear the things you muttered to yourself under your breath. 

You both tried to make conversation at the beginning of your massages but quickly gave up, focusing on relaxation as the massage therapists worked their magic. You slowly began to drift off as all of the excitement and traveling and jet lag caught up to you. Being the main character in a rom-com was tiring! 

You woke up on the couch swaddled in blankets. The sun was just starting to set and painted a brilliant picture across the sky— swatches of red, orange, pink, and yellow were brushed haphazardly across the heavens. 

Under all the blankets you were still naked, and the soft, clean linens felt heavenly on your freshly-massaged skin. Even though you were completely covered by sheets, you still felt bare, especially when you saw Bucky. He was standing at the edge of the patio, back to you, looking at the sunset. He had thrown on some pants but hadn’t bothered with a shirt, and his back muscles glistened in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. Michelangelo himself could not have sculpted a more perfect man. Bucky turned to you. 

“Sleeping Beauty awakens!”

You pushed yourself up on one elbow to look at him. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple hours.”

You sat up. “What?! Did we have anything on the schedule?”

“It’s ok, I canceled the unicorn ride and sent the papal choir home.”

You rolled your eyes. “You could’ve woken me up, you know.”

“You looked too angelic sleeping for me to wake you. Besides, I know that you were having so many impure thoughts about me that an audience with the Pope might not be advisable.”

You pretended to be shocked. “ _Me?_ Have an impure thought? Never!”

“You sure about that?” he said, walking closer to you. His confidence had your heart beating and your tongue tied. You tried to prove him wrong by not eyeing his torso, but you couldn’t help it: the lighting and oil were highlighting his pecs, his abs, and the V-cut that started at his hips and continued past your line of sight, his pesky pants in the way. He walked right up to where you were sitting, abs right in front of your face before he slowly knelt, allowing you to appreciate his chest up close before coming face to face with you. He smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing. You tried to keep your cool. 

“Your thoughts still pure?” he asked, voice just a little husky, a little needy. The sheet wrapped around you felt so thin. You felt so bare underneath his gaze. 

You muttered, “Showoff,” as it was the only comeback you could think of.

He laughed. “It’s time to get ready for dinner.” He handed you a robe, turning away from you so you could put it on. 

“No peeking!” you said, getting him to laugh again. “You don’t have eyes in the back of your head, do you?” 

“No, no. My mother is the only person I’ve ever known to have eyes in the back of her head. Her, and my friend Natasha.” 

When your robe was secure you stood up, still a little groggy from your nap. You woke right up as Bucky started telling another heist story, this one involving a kidnapped Russian heiress and a shipment of stolen diamonds. 

Inside the castle you and Bucky had two adjoining rooms, allowing each of you some privacy to get ready for dinner. You had brought a couple of options with you from Paris, and selected a deep red short-sleeved dress with a fitted bodice and tea-length skirt. It wasn’t too overtly sexy: it didn’t have a plunging neckline, short hemline, and it wasn’t bodycon, but it was _just_ fitted enough, _just_ low-cut enough to leave him wanting more. You decided to leave your hair down, all of the hair care products FRIDAY provided making that possible. You tucked a piece of hair back on each side and secured it with a jeweled bobby pin.

When you were ready you knocked at the door between the two rooms and Bucky opened it. He was in a dark blue suit with a black shirt. He had the top button unbuttoned and no tie. Now _that_ was sophisticated and sexy. 

“Woah,” you both said at the same time. 

He grabbed one of your hands and twirled you around. “You are quite the dish,” he said. You understood the meaning of his 40s slang by the tone of his voice and the way he was looking at you. 

He led you by the hand down the hall and into a formal dining room. 

“Oh my God!” Bucky covered his face with his hands and you couldn't help but laugh. 

Even by the standards of last night’s date this was _a lot_. The battalion of flowers was to be expected. The candles bobbing in the air like something out of Harry Potter were beautiful. The opera singer belting her heart out in the corner, accompanied by a harpist, wasn’t _too_ out of the box. But the people dressed as angels, complete with white robes, fluffy white wings, and golden harpsichords, singing and strumming softly while they were suspended from the ceiling? That was more than a little much. 

You were just noticing the champagne fountain and swan ice sculpture when a handsome, rugged man in a tux appeared. “Welcome to Heaven!” he said with a wink. He had very kind eyes, and you noticed that they were different colors. 

“ _Thor. I said no angels,_ ” Bucky hissed through gritted teeth. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. 

“Yes, well, Samuel and I decided they would be a nice touch.” He turned to you. “You like them, don’t you?” 

“Oh, they’re incredible,” you said just to torture Bucky. 

Bucky sighed heavily and grabbed your hand, leading you out of the ornate room. 

“Wait! Where are you going? I was going to recite a poem!” Thor called after you. Bucky’s pace was so fast that you were practically jogging alongside him. When you darted down a hallway Bucky finally slowed to a stop. 

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I—” he stopped, listening intently to something before grabbing your hand again. “We gotta keep moving. Thor is coming after us and I really can’t go back in that room.” 

You took off your heels and ran with him until you were almost at the front door, where he pulled you into a coat closet. You were trying to keep your breathing under control so as not to give away your position (or let Bucky know how out of shape you were) and you were mostly successful. You and Bucky were pressed chest to chest in the small space and you wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was beating. He looked at you and put a finger to his lips, signaling for you to quietly put your shoes back on. You waited a few seconds before Bucky opened the door to the closet and you both got out. He prompted you to get on his back and he made a break for it, sprinting down the remainder of the hallway.

“There you are! Come back here at once!” You heard Thor’s voice echoing down the corridor as Bucky bolted out the front door, veering right and running across the gravel to the silver sports car you had driven earlier. There appeared to be some sort of animal in the driver’s seat, and it was...yelling at you? OK, now you were sure this was a dream. That was the only explanation for the past 48 hours of your life. 

Bucky changed course, making his way towards a blue Vespa that was parked further down the drive. He swung his leg over it and made sure that your grip was tight around him before speeding off down the gravel path and onto the main road. There was a loud crack of thunder above you, and you looked up to see a lightning heart in the sky, which you took as a sign of Thor’s blessing. You drove about 15 minutes until you reached a town, and Bucky parked the Vespa on a cobblestone side street. 

You and Bucky both got off the Vespa, took one look at each other, and burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. You had finally calmed down, only for you to ask, “Was that a raccoon in your car?” and get the two of you started again. 

When you had finally composed yourselves and caught your breath, he offered you his arm and you walked around the town. You happened upon a small trattoria and Bucky stopped. “Do you mind? I know it’s not the Jules Verne, but all of that angels and ice sculptures stuff really isn’t me.” 

“This place looks perfect,” you assured him. 

You walked inside and Bucky asked the hostess in perfect Italian if the two of you could be seated. The kindly older woman looked between the two of you, smiling and ushering you inside the restaurant’s cozy interior. It was full of locals: there was no English to be heard here. She seated you at one of the only open tables, which was wedged between a young family and a group of rowdy old men. The wooden table had a checkered red and white table cloth and a single candle in the middle. The room managed to be full without feeling cramped, and all of the voices provided a lively soundtrack rather than a deafening roar. 

She winked at you two and said something in Italian which Bucky translated, blushing a little: “Welcome, young lovers.”

When she left the table a teenage boy immediately appeared and poured you water and wine, leaving the decanter with you. He also placed bread and olive oil on the table. He scurried away before you could ask for a menu. You looked around, trying to see if anyone else had a menu, and one of the older men at the adjacent table leaned over to you.

“Antonia,” he gestured towards the woman who had seated you,“ brings you what you will eat, and she decides when you are done.” 

One of his companions added, “This last part is very important! I tried to leave early once and I was beaten with a broomstick!” 

“It’s true! Giuseppe was black and blue for 3 days!” another man said. 

The entire table erupted into raucous laughter, and you couldn't tell if they were being serious or not. Before you could figure it out, Antonia returned and yelled at the men to leave you alone. She and the boy from earlier each had two dishes: Penne with pesto, truffle gnocchi, risotto, and pappa al pomodoro. 

“I can sense it, you’ve got an appetite,” she said, patting Bucky on the back.

You each got a set of utensils, and because there was no room on the table you were meant to share each plate. If Bucky had the same appetite as Steve you’d be lucky to get a bite from each dish. He was very polite though, insisting on you trying each dish first. When you got the gnocchi you had to hold back a moan it was so good. 

“Forget about your abs, I am having very impure thoughts about _this food_ ,” you joked. 

Bucky tried it and wholeheartedly agreed.

The rest of the meal was amazing: the jokes and wine were flowing freely as Antonia brought out course after course after course. The old men complained that you two were getting all of the good stuff and she shut them up with a swat to the head and a threat to cut them off from the wine. 

For dessert she brought out a plum and almond cake. Once you had finished that, as well as your espresso and limoncello, you figured that she was finally done bringing food out. However you were both afraid to move from your seats after the warning you had gotten from your neighbors. Neighbors that were currently singing old songs at a rising volume. 

It had started softly, a verse here and a verse there, but they were getting louder and bolder, faces red from all the alcohol they had consumed over the course of the night. You were surprised when other people in the restaurant chimed in— the song must have been a classic. The room was filled with the tune, voices singing in all keys but somehow coming together in a resounding chorus that filled the small space with joy and warmth. 

You had no idea what they were saying, but when one of the restaurant patrons put their arms around your shoulders and began swaying, you swayed with them. When the impromptu concert was over you and Bucky decided it was safe to leave. The table of rambunctious men gave you a warm goodbye. You had almost made it away from the table when Giuseppe spoke up: “Before the young lovers leave we need to see a kiss!”

You both tried to politely shut him down; you weren’t eager to have your first kiss in a crowded restaurant for a table of rowdy old men. The men were insistent, and calls of “Kiss her!” and “Baciala!” rang throughout the restaurant as the other patrons joined in. You both blushed, not seeing a graceful way out of this scenario. Bucky pulled you close and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as he brought his face closer to yours. He planted a slow, deliberate kiss on your cheek that somehow felt more intimate than a kiss on the lips. He pulled back a little and smiled at you. He looked at your lips, seemingly deciding whether or not to kiss you there. He chose to release you, much to the disappointment of your spectators (and, to your surprise, you). 

They booed, but Antonia came to your rescue, hushing the restaurant and guiding you out. 

She tried to wave you away when Bucky asked about payment, but he stuffed a large wad of cash into her hands, so large that she was stunned into silence. You and Bucky took that opportunity to slip out of the restaurant. The street outside was cool and peaceful by contrast, and you enjoyed the night air for a moment. 

“I heard there were some young lovers in town,” a voice came behind you. The voice belonged to a man who was wheeling a cart full of roses. “I have three dozen roses here. A girl as beautiful as her is not deserving of a single one?” 

Before you could tell Bucky that he didn’t have to buy you a rose he handed the man a stack of cash, asking for all of them. The man looked shocked but quickly handed over an armload of roses. There were so many that you almost couldn’t see Bucky’s face! He got on one knee to present them to you, and you could see him smiling. 

“Dear Princess,” he said dramatically, “will you accept these tokens of my affection?” 

“I believe I will,” you responded, wondering what the hell you were going to do with that many flowers. 

Bucky was standing up when a group of three young girls ran up to you, pointing.

“Principessa! Principessa!” they called to you. 

You looked at Bucky, both of you amused that these girls thought you were a princess. You took one of the roses from him, putting on a solemn face as you turned to the girls. You gestured for the one in front to step forward, and you tapped her on each shoulder with the rose before handing it to her, crowning her, “Principessa.” The girls squealed in delight, and you hurried to appoint the other two princesses. When they all had their titles and their roses they whispered to each other before motioning for the two of you to wait there. They took off sprinting down the street. 

“There are about to be a lot of new princes and princesses in town,” Bucky said. 

He was right. You heard the footsteps before you saw the herd. Your three princesses were in front, followed by at least 20 other kids, all charging towards you, shouting and scrambling. Bucky helped you calm them down and get them in line as they awaited their formal appointments into the monarchy. You gave a rose to all the princesses, however all the princes insisted on having the Principe, Bucky, bestow their royal titles upon them. When everyone was done, you curtsied to the new royals, and Bucky bowed. The kids curtsied and bowed in return before running down the streets, some using the roses as magic wands, others trying to wrest roses away from the others, while still more were using the roses as swords. 

You still had a lot of roses left and thought it might be fun to find ways to give more away. You decided to go for a walk through the town. You passed several other people and couples as you walked, presenting all of them with flowers. It was amazing to see how much they lit up from such a simple gift. Every once in a while one of the kids from earlier would run by, stopping to bow and curtsy, and you and Bucky would do the same. Bucky taught you how to say “Your Highness” in Italian so that you could properly greet your fellow nobles, and he seemed to get a kick out of all of it. 

One of your favorite parts of your job was helping organize children’s storytime and themed crafts. You liked people who smiled at random babies and played along with kids because that’s the kind of person you were. You suppose you shouldn’t have been surprised since you met him while he was spending time with Morgan. 

“Have you always been good with kids?” 

“Well, Morgan seems to like hanging out with me. And when I lived in Wakanda the local kids came by a lot, they really liked to play with my hair,” he smiled at the memory. “I also had three younger siblings, so…” he trailed off, eyes a little sad. You took his free hand in yours, giving it a squeeze. He continued, “So, to answer your question, yes.” 

You decided not to press the issue; you didn’t know that he had had siblings, and you couldn’t imagine how painful it must have been for him to wake up 70 years later in a world without them. You didn’t know what you would do without your little sister Anna.

You kept walking, hand in hand. You were down to your last few flowers and ran into an elderly couple on their way from the town square. They each delightedly took a flower. You got to talking and discovered that they had been together for 60 years! 

The husband took Bucky aside and spoke to him very animatedly with lots of hand gestures, sometimes pointing at him with his rose. You and the wife looked on bemusedly as her husband gave your date relationship advice. She knew that you didn’t speak much Italian, but tried to communicate with you anyway. She put one hand to her heart, saying, “Cuore puro,” and pointing at you. “Amore puro,” she said, gesturing between you and Bucky. You smiled at her, and she collected her husband and they went on their way. You turned to him and grabbed one of the two remaining roses out of his hand. You curtsied and offered him the rose, “Principe.” 

He laughed, but bowed and handed you his rose, “Principessa.”

You exchanged roses and then he took your hand and you kept walking, approaching the town square. You could hear the splash of a fountain as well as the music of string instruments as you made your way into the center of town. A cellist and two violinists were set up in front of the fountain playing beautiful classical music as people walked by, some stopping to listen, with the occasional onlooker tossing a few coins into the open violin case at their feet. A few people were swaying side to side as they listened and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

Bucky asked you to dance and at first you hesitated. No one else was really dancing like that. But then you figured, what the hell? You had flown halfway across the world just to have dinner with an amazing, handsome guy who was asking you to dance. So you danced. 

Bucky was not content to sway slowly like Steve. No, Bucky was a fan of dramatic lifts and dips that left you breathless. He liked to twirl you around so that your dress swished around you, the deep red of your dress contrasting with all of the gray and brown stone paving the square. The combination of your high heels and the cobblestones would normally have been an issue, but Bucky held you steady. Any fears you had about tumbling onto the uneven terrain were whirled right out of your head. 

The people that had been standing and politely listening were now swaying, and those that had been swaying were now dancing, adding their own swishes of color to the tapestry you were weaving. You danced song after song until the buskers stopped playing and you joined the rest of the audience in clapping for them. As Bucky dropped a stack of cash into their violin case you looked around and realized that the group gathered in the square had multiplied, and it included some of the kids from earlier as well as some of the people who had been at Antonia's restaurant with you. You waved at all of them before heading back to your Vespa and driving back to the castello. 

As you got off the Vespa you looked at the lights in the distance that comprised the town you had just visited and smiled. You felt a few raindrops meet your skin but you didn’t care: you had always loved the rain. You heard Bucky’s voice beside you:

“You have a beautiful smile, you know that?”

You turned to him, and he was looking directly at you. He closed the distance between the two of you, one hand at your waist and the other at the side of your face. He brought his face closer to yours but this time his lips’ destination was not your cheek. 

He stopped right before he met your lips, looking at you. 

“If you don’t kiss me already...” you warned playfully. 

He shook his head at you, laughing, as he leaned in. He kissed you softly at first, but when you put your arms around his shoulders, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, he used his hold on you to pull you close and deepen the kiss. The rain picked up and he just held you tighter, your chests pressed together. He pulled back for a moment, and you were struck by how handsome he looked. You wiped some of his wet hair out of his face and he looked at you like he had just discovered an angel. Your heart skipped a beat. He placed kisses all down your neck and you turned to putty in his hands. You tangled your fingers in his hair and held him there, which he responded to immediately. He put both hands at your waist and lifted you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to be as close to him as possible. He left kisses along your collarbone before working his way back up your neck and to your lips, which awaited him eagerly. You kissed until this time you pulled back just to look at him, make sure that he was real. He brought his metal hand to your face, thumb tracing your lips. The cool metal combined with the rain and the way that he was looking at you made you shiver. 

Bucky snapped back into perfect gentleman mode after seeing you shiver, separating the two of you and offering his arm as he led you back towards the villa. “Let’s get you inside,” he said.

You walked back towards your rooms in silence. The sexual tension was heavy in the air but both of you were trying to ignore it given your complicated situation. You showered in your room and dried off, mind still reeling from that kiss. In the name of equality you had grabbed the same pajamas from last night in a different color to wear tonight. You felt nervous as you knocked at the door connecting your rooms, Bucky opening it immediately and welcoming you into his room. 

“I’m assuming you got Sam’s bonnet lecture?” you gestured at your head covering as you headed towards the bed.

Bucky scoffed, “I’ve dated black women before, Amy.”

“Well, _excuse me_ ,” you said. You climbed under the covers and scooted over for him to join you. 

“Fair warning,” you said as he got into bed. “Sleeping Amy has been known to steal the covers.” 

He laughed, “Then we’ll have to outsmart Sleeping Amy.” He pulled you close so that you were laying on top of him, your head resting on his chest. “This way she thinks she’s stealing the covers from me, but she’s really just covering me more.” 

You snuggled into his chest. “You sure that’s the only reason we’re sleeping like this?” you asked, eyes already closed. 

“90% sure,” he replied softly. It wasn’t long before you drifted off. 

…

As promised, he brought you breakfast in bed. You freshened up, remaining in your PJs. 

“What did I tell you? Dinner one day, breakfast the next,” Bucky said with a cocky grin.

“You didn’t make this breakfast yourself, so I feel like that’s kind of cheating.”

“Next time I’ll make it for you.”

“Next time?”

“Next time.”

“Where are we going next? Lunch in Luxembourg? Dinner in Dubai?”

“Wherever you want. As long as I get to choose dessert.”

“What’s dessert?”

“You,” he said with a cheesy wink. 

You rolled your eyes and chucked a raspberry at him but he caught it in his mouth. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you said to him. 

“Thanks!” He caught the second raspberry you threw at him. 

Steve wasn’t going to burst in and whisk you away, so after breakfast you got dressed and packed up, boarding the jet to New York. A few minutes into the flight Bucky’s entire demeanor changed, and he excused himself to go to one of the jet’s many rooms, reappearing an hour and a half later, apologizing that he had to get some mission updates. You forgave him quickly, as you had been spending your time recounting and analyzing every detail of each date with Gertie. Talking with her made it crystal clear how impossible of a decision this was going to be. 

“So Bucky,” Gertie began, “how long does Amy have to make her decision between the two of you?”

Bucky looked a little caught off guard by her question, but he said, “I was thinking maybe you could come by tomorrow and the three of us could talk? But you can have as long as you want to decide,” he rushed to assure you. 

You nodded. Tomorrow was soon, but this wasn’t the type of decision that got easier with time. In fact, more time to mull this over meant more agony for you. You would have to call an emergency meeting with your closest friends tonight and hope you could figure something out. 

Bucky dropped you back off at your apartment with a soft kiss on the lips.

“I would like to check the status of my debt. How many more cheeseburgers I gotta buy ya?”

“Oh, your debt is repaid. I might even owe you now!”

“Aw. Now I don't have an excuse to see you.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“I’ve got it! Sometime soon I’ll have a book-related emergency that requires your expertise.”

You laughed, “Call me anytime with your book emergencies...or just ‘cause.” You stood on your tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before heading into your apartment building. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahah I bet y’all thought it couldn’t get any cheesier than the last chapter. HA! 
> 
> Also, Thor was definitely responsible for the rain but I couldn’t find an organic way to work it into the fic so I’m putting it here. Moodboard and playlist for this date on my socials! 
> 
> xoxo,   
> girlygirl


	6. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they’re all back home in New York, Steve, Bucky and Amy all have to sort out their feelings.

When you got to your front door you took a moment just to breathe. It had been a crazy couple of days and your emotions were all over the place. You couldn’t believe that you had eaten breakfast in Italy this morning and were already home in New York, where the time was 8 am. 

It was Sunday morning—Liv would probably be enjoying a coffee right now, scrolling her phone for recipes, and making a shopping list for your weekly farmer’s market trip. You unlocked the door to your apartment and saw Liv sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, mug in hand. She nearly dropped it when she saw you, running to give you a hug. 

“You’re alive!” she said, half-joking. You had shot her a quick text here and there when you had decided to stay over, but that was it. “How was it?!” 

Words could not even describe. “It was amazing,” you said simply. 

“Clearly,” Liv replied, gesturing to the two huge floral arrangements on the coffee table in the living room. 

You walked over to the bouquets. One was a simple dozen red roses with baby’s breath: that classic touch had to be Steve’s. The attached card included a photo of the two of you from your date: you two were dancing and smiling at each other. It was a beautiful photo, and you hadn’t even noticed it being taken. On the back was written: “I had a really great time on our date. I hope I'll be able to see you again soon.” His name was carefully signed at the bottom. You stared at the photo for a long while, recalling the feeling of swaying in Steve’s arms. 

Bucky’s bouquet was a combination of purples with the occasional pop of white and green. Had he remembered you telling him when you met that purple was your favorite color? The card was simple: one sentence, written in both English and Italian. It said, “Flowers fit for a princess,” and was signed “Il Principe”. Bucky’s card made you laugh, and remember how much fun the two of you had together. 

Liv came over to read the cards herself before breaking down her analysis of the bouquets. She worked for a luxury and lifestyle magazine and knew all about stuff like this. Ever since college she had been able to get a couple of cheap Trader Joe’s bouquets and transform them into a beautiful arrangement for your living space. Your butcher block kitchen island, lovingly named Miss Bertha, was always adorned with some lovely fresh flowers: this week oranges and yellows captured the vibrancy of the mid-summer sun.

“Steve’s bouquet is straight-forward, classic. If you want to express romantic affection you can’t go wrong with a dozen red roses. Bucky’s bouquet, on the other hand, is more than just your favorite color. Lavender roses symbolize enchantment and love at first sight, and light purple lilacs symbolize the first emotions of love. Now that I’ve read his note, the purple tulips make sense because they symbolize royalty. Dendrobium Orchids also convey elegance, rarity, and royalty. He’s practically written you a love letter out of flowers!” 

“Wow,” you said. “And here I was thinking I was special because he remembered my favorite color!” 

“I need every detail. Right now.”

“Let me call Kiara and Michelle. Kiara won’t be up yet but I bet we could tempt her to come over here if we made cinnamon rolls.” 

You and Liv impatiently worked on the cinnamon rolls together. You wanted to rehash every single millisecond of your dates immediately, and you could tell Liv was dying to hear. Kiara arrived, still in her pajamas, just as you were icing the cinnamon rolls. You already had a cup of coffee prepared for her (just how she liked it: lots of cream and sugar with a dash of nutmeg) and she sat on one of the stools at your island. 

You were aware that you were missing a person: Michelle had not responded to your bat signal. She had a very demanding job, and as a relative newbie at her company she was still stuck with long hours and a heavy workload. Neither her nor Kiara even knew about the dates in the first place: everything had happened so fast and part of you wanted to make sure that they really happened before you started telling people. 

Even in her caffeine-deprived state, Kiara could tell that Liv was excited about something. 

“What’s with her?” Kiara asked you, jerking her head in Liv’s direction. 

“What’s with me?! Our friend just had back-to-back _overnight_ dates with Captain America and the Winter Soldier!” 

“I’m sorry, I think I hallucinated. Can you repeat that please?” 

“You heard right! We always knew Amy was a player at heart, and she has proven it by going out with superhero best friends!” Liv was giddy with excitement. This kind of stuff never happened to either of you.

“OK, so _Liv’s_ hallucinating. Is this an intervention?” Kiara said. The Amy Rebecca Carlisle she knew hadn’t even kissed a guy since college.

“I met Steve on Thursday after work when I went to check out that new black-owned bookstore I was telling you about…” you said, catching Kiara up on how you had met Steve and Bucky. By the time you were ready to detail your date with Steve, Kiara was wide awake, her coffee growing cold in her mug. 

You told Liv and Kiara all about Steve’s date, including the unorthodox beginning and the information that Gertie had divulged. You recounted arriving in Paris and seeing the Eiffel Tower sparkling in front of you, only to realize that you were going to eat dinner inside of it! You described the beautiful restaurant setting and how Steve looked so handsome in his suit (and so cute when he wore that bashful smile). You told them about how he had taken your recommendations seriously and made a Brooklyn Nine-Nine reference. You explained the tension you had felt while dancing with him, and how good it felt to finally kiss him. Steve was outwardly the perfect gentleman, but something told you that there was another side to him—a side that you were eager to see. You told them how much fun you two had eating room service in bed and laughing at old French movies, how natural it felt to cuddle with him, and how sad you were to leave him. 

You told them about Bucky’s date. How he had burst in on you and Steve, whisking you away to Italy. How at first you felt a little awkward, but Bucky soon changed that. You were so comfortable around each other that you felt like you had been good friends for a while, even though you had just met. You told your friends about the olive oil massage and how sexy Bucky had looked shirtless. You told them about how over-the-top the original dinner was, and how you made a daring escape from his meddling friends and raced into town on the back of a Vespa. You told them about the restaurant you happened upon, that had the best food and the most interesting company. You described all of the roses and princes and princesses, as well as the old couple who gave you advice. Twirling in the street without a care in the world. Kissing in the rain. 

“Holy shit, Amy!” Kiara said when you were done telling your story, including the part where you were supposed to meet with both of them tomorrow. 

“Which one are you gonna choose?” Liv asked. 

“I don’t know!” you groaned. “You know, when the three of us first talked, Bucky jokingly suggested that I date both of them and now I really wish that was an option. They’re so wonderful in different ways! How could I ever choose?!” 

“Well, in case they don’t want to be brother husbands then you need to make a choice. I’m Team Bucky,” Kiara said. 

“Really? I’m Team Steve!” Liv said. 

“I thought you liked Bucky’s flowers,” you said to Liv. 

“Oh, right! Bucky’s flowers were a nice touch. Hmm…” 

“See! Team Bucky! It seems like you two have a lot of fun together, and he makes you laugh, and that is so important,” Kiara said. 

“I agree with you but once we were in the hotel room watching movies and hanging out, Steve and I laughed our asses off, goofing around with each other. We laughed a lot the first time we met, too.” 

“Damn. Well is there anything you _didn’t_ like about either of them?”

“I don’t doubt that they’re interested in me, but I can’t ignore what Gertie said. I can’t help but wonder if this eagerness to compete over me has anything to do with an underlying attraction between the two of them. I know I should probably talk to them about it, but I _really_ don’t want to.” 

“You should,” Kiara said. 

“Can’t I just... _not_?”

“No,” Kiara replied. 

You looked to Liv, who was normally your ally in pursuing non-confrontational strategies. 

“I’m sorry, Amy, but Kiara might be right.” 

You groaned. 

“Well, let’s see if you even want to date them in the first place. Is there anything else you can think of about either of them that you dislike?”

“I don’t have a real problem with it now, but I have a feeling I might take issue with their professions in the future. Steve arrived late to our date, shirt torn, because he had been fighting off bad guys. That’s just part of their daily life. Same with Bucky. During our flight home he was gone for an hour and a half doing mission stuff. Even if it turns out they’re not harboring secret feelings for each other, they’re already married to their work. And that work is dangerous! They deal with the fate of the universe! I don’t know if I’m ready to be a superhero girlfriend.”

“True, most superhero girlfriends die tragically, and the ones that survive spend every other day getting kidnapped by their lover’s nemeses,” Kiara said. 

“Gee, thanks, Kiara. Way to make me feel better about all this!”

“Well, it’s a reality! Aliens will be using your boyfriend for target practice.”

“ _Kiara!_ Maybe they’ll retire. You don’t know,” Liv said, sympathetic to your plight. 

“Even if they retire I don’t think bad guys will stop coming for them, will they?” Kiara asked.

“I don’t know!”

Talking with your friends hadn’t helped clear your head as you had hoped. You had intended to debate which one of them to pick, now you were debating if you should date either of them at all! 

...

Things weren’t going much better across town, where Steve and Bucky were both sorting out their feelings for you. Steve was reflecting on the deep hunger he had felt for you, how hard he had tried to hold himself back, and how badly he wanted to just let go. Let you see all of him. He wanted to get lost in you, and be found again. With you, anything felt possible. And he wished it was as simple as a guy liking a girl and a girl liking him back. But if you chose him over Bucky, how would that make Bucky feel? Would he feel even more isolated? Steve knew it couldn’t have been easy for his best friend—re-integrating into society with horrible memories and a tarnished public image. Bucky had agreed to move into the Tower to be close to Steve, even if that meant spending lots of time with Steve’s shiny new friend Sam, and living in the same building as a man that (justifiably) had a mega-grudge against him. Bucky had done all that for Steve, and secretly Steve hoped that Bucky wasn’t doing it just for the sake of friendship and brotherhood, a hope that he was just starting to realize he held. 

Across the hall, in his own apartment, Bucky was worrying about similar things. Steve deserved to get the girl for once, deserved to be happy. Steve had devoted the past several years of his life to saving the universe and saving Bucky: he deserved a girl whose smile felt like the north star finally shining down on a weary and disoriented traveler. If he could just follow that smile— your smile—he would be led to the promised land. Your laughter soothed ears that were still ringing with the sounds of war; your lips a comfort to ones that had seen enough blood and shouting to last several lifetimes; your soft touch a balm to rough, calloused skin. Yeah, Bucky realized, he had it bad. And there was really only one person that he wanted to talk to about all this. And that person lived right across the hall, so what was he waiting for? The big conversation was tomorrow, so it was now or never. 

Bucky took a deep breath and opened his front door to head over to Steve’s. Steve was opening his door at the same time. They looked at each other hesitantly before meeting in the middle.


	7. Will You Accept This Rose?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moment of truth. What’s the verdict?

You knocked nervously on Steve’s door, still trying to make a last-minute decision and failing miserably. Your heart and your head were both content to shrug and leave this one up to you. You were greeted with a hug by Bucky, who immediately asked you to tell Steve that his pizza preferences were obscene. You did no such thing, opting to hug Steve instead. 

“Now Steve,” you teased, “if you have a penchant for anchovy-pineapple-BBQ pizzas then I will have to mark that on your record, firmly in the ‘cons’ category.” 

“You have Pro-Con lists for us?” Bucky asked. 

“Can we see?!” Steve asked. 

“I _tried_ to make one but the only con I could come up with for either of you was that I liked your best friend.” _And that you two might be secretly in love. And that dating you might make me a target for alien assassins_. 

“But I had more pros than him, right?” Bucky asked. 

You rolled your eyes. “Some different pros, some similar, but same number.” 

“Well, we’re about to order some pizza so hopefully that will remind you of our wonderful date in Italy.”

“That’s why you wanted pizza?!” Steve said. 

Bucky just smirked and asked you what you liked on your pizza. You were fine with cheese but your favorite had always been veggie—one of the many reasons you and the vegetarian Liv were a roommate match made in heaven. 

“God, you’re worse than Steve!” Bucky complained. 

“There’s nothing wrong with sprinkling some leafy greens on your pizza.” 

Both boys reacted in disgust. 

“Vegetables are good for you!” you continued. “They keep those of us without superpowers healthy and strong.” You flexed a barely-existent bicep. 

“Maybe you do need the extra spinach there, Popeye,” Bucky said. 

“Hey!” you said, but couldn’t stop yourself from laughing with the two of them. 

Both of them seemed content to ignore the elephant in the room, and you happily accepted the stay of execution. Bucky called the pizza shop and ordered an XL cheese for himself, the pizza purist; an XL sausage mushroom for the pizza heretic, Steve; and a small veggie for you, the wimpy apostate. The pizza was delicious and you and Steve made a silent pact to enjoy your pizzas as obnoxiously as possible to annoy Bucky. 

“Y’know, Steve, my favorite pizza place back home has a pizza with Italian sausage and mushrooms on it. It’s got lots of other veggies on it too. We should go!” 

“I would love that, Amy,” Steve said, smirking at Bucky. 

“I just don’t get it. You’ve got peppers, olives, tomatoes, _and_ spinach on your pizza—why don’t you just eat a salad?”

“Ew, no.”

“You don’t like salad?”

“I like pasta salad, chicken salad, fruit salad. Those count?”

“I didn’t like salads either, but Bucky makes a pretty good one,” Steve admitted. 

You looked skeptical. It’s not that you hated salads. They were just never your first choice. And, if after seven years of trying, Liv hadn’t made a salad you loved, then you doubted some supersoldier born in the 19teens could do so, no offense. 

“You don’t believe I can make a salad you’ll like?” Bucky asked incredulously. 

“It’s not personal, I—”

“Challenge accepted.”

“I didn’t challenge you.”

“Yes, you did,” Steve said. “Not having faith in Bucky’s culinary abilities is a challenge I have lost many, many times.” 

“Alright, fine. One day I'll let you make me a salad.” One day. Would there be a “one day” with him? You realized the blunder as soon as you’d said it. 

“Speaking of ‘one day’,” Bucky said, and your stomach did somersaults as the conversation you had been dreading approached, “have you had the chance to think about everything with us?” 

The words tumbled out: “I’m so sorry it’s just—I’ve been going back and forth in my head but I just can’t—you’re both so wonderful and so different! I understand if you needed a decision today and don’t want to—”

“It’s ok, Amy, relax. Believe it or not, not being able to choose is the best answer you could’ve given,” Bucky said. 

“It is?” you responded, looking at Steve for confirmation.

“Yeah, but you have to promise to hear us out,” Steve said.

You nodded and Bucky continued, “Steve and I have been friends for a really long time.”

_Uh-oh. I know where this is going. Bros before hoes and all that._

“I can’t really imagine my life without him.” 

_Oh?_

“And seeing him serious about a girl made me realize that…made me realize that a part of me always expected that the two of us would get together someday.”

 _Oh. Alright. Well, I suppose I have served my true purpose as a plot device in Steve and Bucky's love story, and will be seeing myself out now. At least I got a good story out of it,_ you thought ruefully.

“But then I met the girl that he was serious about, and I understood. After an hour, I was serious about you too.”

_Wait, what?_

“When I saw you in bed together in Paris, I was jealous. But I couldn’t figure out which one of you I was more jealous of.”

_OK, where is this going?_

Steve spoke up now, “And I felt the same way, watching you two leave together.”

_Alright. And…?_

Steve continued, “After our dates with you, we sat down and had the most honest conversation we’ve ever had. And our situation seemed impossible. We both wanted to date you. We both wanted to date each other. And we knew you had an interest in both of us. And we got to thinking...” He paused to gauge your reaction, but you were too confused to react. “Maybe this sounds crazy, or greedy. But we were hoping that maybe, just maybe, we wouldn’t have to choose. And neither would you.”

You had two sets of eyes on you as you tried to clarify what Steve was saying.

“I want to make sure I’m understanding what you’re asking...” you said slowly, not wanting to make any embarrassing assumptions. “When you first started talking I was fully prepared for you to say that you two were in love, thank me for helping you realize that, and send me on my way. So…” You sighed heavily. _How do you delicately ask the people propositioning you for a throuple if they’re sure they wouldn’t rather just be a couple?_ You weren’t trying to talk them out of dating you, per se, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d be a third wheel, considering their history.“I’m just wondering...you just met me, and you two seem to already have something...Gertie told me that she might’ve seen you two fooling around in the past, and—” 

“Damn it, Steve! I told you she saw us!” 

“It was three in the morning! How was I supposed to know she was awake?” 

“Whatever. To answer your question, Steve and I...well I don’t know what we were. We’ve never really gotten the chance to talk about it. Yeah, we’ve messed around a couple times over the years, but our lives have been so crazy that we haven’t had the chance to think about it. But things are finally settling down now. And yeah, if we hadn’t met you we probably would’ve gotten together eventually, just the two of us. But we _did_ meet you. Neither of us could’ve expected you, but now that we’ve met you—you are so lovely and so funny and so kind—we don’t want to let you go.” 

The way they were both looking at you, you wanted to give them whatever they wanted. But it was precisely because you were feeling this way that you had to get complete clarity. You needed to know exactly what they expected, because if they wanted to continue squabbling over you like you were the last available swing on the playground, then that would be an issue. 

“I’m just trying to picture what this will look like,” you said finally. “You two want to continue dating me separately and also start dating each other? Indefinitely?”

“It can look however we want,” Steve said. “And we can talk as we go about what works for us and what doesn’t. This is all completely new to us, too. What I was envisioning wasn’t exactly what you said. I want more moments like right now, where the three of us are eating pizza and making fun of each other. I want to buy flowers for the two of you, take you both on a date, walk you home and kiss _both_ of you goodnight—” Steve stopped abruptly, blushing from his impassioned declaration.

You bit your lip. Technically, this was the perfect solution to your problem. Steve’s vision sounded kind of perfect, but what they were asking for was kind of unorthodox. Then again, what about this entire situation was orthodox? You liked both of them, and this way you could have them. You wouldn’t know whether or not this would work unless you tried. 

You looked between their expectant faces. “Okay,” you said. 

“Okay?!” The boys jumped out of their seats.

“Okay!” you said. Bucky picked you up and twirled you around before setting you back down. Both boys grinned at you. You could get used to those smiles. 

Steve suddenly put his hands on your hips and sat you on the counter before placing his hands on either side of your face, he leaned in, hesitating for a moment and asking you with his eyes if this was ok. You nodded and he kissed you. Unlike on the bridge, this time he did not hold back. His tongue pushed inside of your mouth, hot and urgent. His hands seemed intent on memorizing every part of your body, constantly roaming, never staying anywhere for too long. You felt a third hand at your waist and opened your eyes to see Bucky coming closer, winking at you before placing his lips on your neck. You had one hand on the napes of each of their necks, running your fingers through the hair there and keeping them close to you. _It hasn’t been very long, but I think I made the right decision,_ you thought to yourself, enjoying the heavenly feeling of both of them at once. 

You pulled away slowly, taking the time to look at each of them before encouraging them to kiss. If the three of you were going to do this, then they would be kissing a lot, and you wondered what it would be like to watch them, how you would feel. They only hesitated a little before going for it, and you fully appreciated for the first time just how much they had been holding back on you. They kissed roughly, bunching shirt fabric in their fists to bring the other closer, grabbing at each other greedily. They looked beautiful together, caught in this passionate dance, and you could only wonder what this dance would look like when they were horizontal. You realized you really wanted to see that, be part of that. You hoped that one day they would feel comfortable being that rough with you, but in the meantime you were more than happy to watch them. Bucky pulled away first, Steve practically whimpering and leaning forward to capture Bucky’s lips again, getting Bucky to laugh. 

“Sorry, we got a little bit carried away,” Bucky said.

“Not a problem,” you assured them. “I was actually wondering what a girl has to do to get treated roughly like that?”

Steve choked on air and Bucky patted him on the back. Bucky gave you an appraising look. “Patience, Principessa,” he said to you and you stuck your tongue out at him. 

“Steve, I knew you weren’t as much of a boy scout as you pretended to be!” you said. You pointed a finger at him. “Don’t hold back on me again.”

He put a hand over his heart and looked deep into your eyes. “I solemnly swear to give you everything I got.” The words could have been playful but they weren’t—Steve meant every word. You were so overwhelmed by the declaration that you had to change the subject. 

“Well, since we’re on the subject of Naughty Steve, I’ve been dying to ask you about your orgy. Gertie told me about it.” 

Bucky looked between you and Steve in shock.

“First off, it was not _my_ orgy—”

“What orgy?!” Bucky asked incredulously. 

“It was years ago. Right after the whole...Winter Soldier thing. It was hard for me, Buck, knowing you were out there but not knowing who you were. Thor noticed how down I was and tried to cheer me up the best way he knew how: alcohol and sex.”

“And were you cheered up?” you asked suggestively. 

“I wasn't ready for all of that. I was overwhelmed by all of the people, the music, the drinking, and drugs. I could appreciate the gesture, but I’m not used to all that ‘merriment’. Even years of Tony’s over-the-top parties could not have prepared me for that. So I hid in the bathroom the whole time.” 

“Aw, Steve,” you said. _Note to self: Gertie knows everything._

Steve continued, “I doubt Thor even noticed I was missing, and he probably doesn’t even remember most of that night, but he’s had the decency not to tell anyone. Thank God because no one would ever let me live it down. You should have seen how much I was teased about you, Amy!”

“Really?!”

“Yes! Sam told everyone at dinner on Thursday night and the whole team spent 40 minutes trying to get information on ‘Bookstore Babe’. But even Sam and Bucky only got the basics about you. I just wanted to be a guy who liked a girl. That obviously didn’t last long,” he chuckled. 

“I’m sorry, can we go back to the orgy??” Bucky said. 

“Why are you so shocked? I seem to remember you attending a sex party or two back in the day.” 

Now it was your turn to look at Bucky with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. Bucky blushed. 

“Hey! You were the one always insisting on sneaking into dirty movies when we were 15!” Bucky shot back at Steve. 

“Bucky, don’t change the subject. We’re talking about _your_ orgies now,” you said. 

“Don’t _you_ have an orgy story we can talk about?” he asked.

You placed a hand to your chest in mock outrage. “How dare you ask me, a lady, such an improper question?”

“I don’t know, Princess, something tells me you have a wild side,” Bucky said, wearing the cocky grin that was quickly becoming his trademark. 

“You _are_ dating two guys right now,” Steve chimed in. 

“Oh, hush,” you told them. They had no idea how little of a wild side you really had. 

“I have a question for you,“ Bucky said, causing you to freeze in anticipation. “Who’s the better kisser? Me or Steve?” 

“You two are _different!_ ” You actually didn’t have an answer to that question. And if you did, you certainly wouldn’t say it! 

“Oh, come on, say it. Steve won’t be offended. He’s only kissed like three people, he knows he doesn’t have a chance,” Bucky said with a laugh. 

“You are so rude!” you scolded playfully. “Steve is an excellent kisser. And if _we_ ,” you gestured between you and Steve, “are any indication, inexperienced people can be good kissers too! I’d only kissed one person before you two.” 

Both boys looked shocked. 

“How…?” Bucky asked. 

“I had my first kiss when I was a senior in college. Three years later and Steve was my second kiss.”

“And your third, and your fourth,” Steve added.

“Yes, and Bucky I suppose that makes you my fifth and sixth.” 

“I was your seventh,” Steve said proudly.

Bucky leaned in and kissed your lips. “Eighth.” 

“Ninth,” Steve said before giving you a kiss. 

“Tenth,” Bucky continued.

“How long are y’all going to do this for?” you giggled. 

“I could do this all night,” Steve said, planting your 11th kiss on you. 

And so you spent hours at Steve’s place talking and sometimes kissing, every second becoming more and more convinced that this little experiment might work. The three of you made plans to make dinner together at your place later that week. You agreed to have more low-key dates from now on. As much fun as jetting across the world to Paris every weekend would be, you wanted to get to know them, just like this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! I'm so glad these three are finally together! I have been doing triple duty trying to establish attraction between Amy and Bucky, Amy and Steve, and Steve and Bucky (and I hope I succeeded)!

**Author's Note:**

> To see mood boards, playlists, and additional information about this work, please check out my socials! @girlygirl14534 on instagram, twitter and tumblr. The tumblr specific to this series is @amyverse, and that blog will have all of the bonus content as well. Thanks for reading!


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